LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


i/n***mii*>mXi>  jjsiftm- 


THE  LIFE  AND  ART 

OF 

WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 


BY 
KATHARINE   METCALF   ROOF 


WITH   LETTERS 
PERSONAL    REMINISCENCES,    AND    ILLUSTRATIVE    MATERIAL 

INTRODUCTION    BY 

ALICE  GERSON  CHASE 


WITH    REPRODUCTIONS    OF   THE    ARTIST  S   WORKS 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1917 


COPYRIGHT,  1917,  BY  CHARLES  SCHIBNER'S  SONS 
PUBLISHED  NOVEMBER,   1917 


INTRODUCTION 

THE  personal  reminiscences  of  my  husband  which  I 
have  been  able  to  offer  Miss  Roof  to  add  to  her  material 
date  from  the  time  of  his  return  from  Munich.  I  went 
with  my  older  sisters  to  the  academy  exhibition  of  1878, 
where  his  picture  Ready  for  the  Ride  was  shown,  and  we 
were  all  very  anxious  to  meet  the  young  painter  after 
seeing  it.  The  canvas,  it  will  be  remembered,  made  quite 
a  sensation  in  art  circles.  When  F.  S.  Church,  already 
a  friend  of  the  family,  brought  William  M.  Chase  to  the 
house  we  were  all  very  much  excited  over  the  event. 
But  out  of  all  my  memories  of  that  early  association — 
and  Mr.  Chase  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  our  house — I 
can  recall  very  few  things  that  he  ever  told  us  of  his 
early  life.  I  suppose  there  were  two  reasons  for  this. 
In  the  first  place,  Mr.  Chase  had  never  at  any  time  any 
tendency  to  talk  about  himself.  He  disliked  it  extremely 
and  was  always  embarrassed  when  he  found  himself 
the  subject  of  conversation.  The  other  reason  is  that 
my  husband  was  interested  in  art  to  such  an  extent 
that  other  things  really  made  very  little  impression 
upon  him.  In  his  last  illness  his  favorite  amusement  was 


INTRODUCTION 

to  review  with  me  the  European  galleries,  asking  me  to 
recall  what  I  thought  the  most  interesting  thing  in  each 
canvas,  and  living  over  in  his  memory  the  pictures  he 
loved  best.  His  sincere  interest  and  pleasure  in  teaching 
was  all  part  of  his  strong  feeling  about  art. 

Miss  Katharine  Roof  was  at  one  time  one  of  his  pupils. 
Mr.  Chase  always  felt  that  she  had  the  real  and  right 
appreciation  of  art — the  principles  and  feeling  of  art, 
not  facts  about  it — and  an  especially  sympathetic  un- 
derstanding of  his  own  work.  Above  all,  she  has  what 
he  especially  valued,  the  painter's  standpoint,  which  is 
the  exact  opposite  of  the  literary  attitude,  toward  art. 
In  his  last  illness,  when  the  subject  of  his  biography  was 
mentioned,  Mr.  Chase  said  more  than  once  that  he  wished 
she  might  write  it,  and  I  am  glad  indeed  that  his  wish, 
which  was  also  my  own,  has  been  fulfilled. 

ALICE  GERSON  CHASE. 


[vi] 


*  *  *  The  author  wishes  to  express  her  thanks  to 
Mrs.  William  M.  Chase,  who  has  furnished  the  majority 
of  the  illustrations  for  this  book  as  well  as  the  letters  in- 
cluded in  the  text.  She  also  acknowledges  her  indebted- 
ness to  Mr.  Chase's  mother,  Mrs.  David  Hester  Chase 
and  to  his  brother,  George  Chase;  to  the  Misses  Gerson, 
Mrs.  Candace  Wheeler,  Mrs.  Rosina  Emmett  Sherwood, 
Mrs.  Dora  Wheeler  Keith,  Miss  Gladys  Wiles,  Miss 
Annie  Lang,  Mr.  Frank  Duveneck,  Mr.  Frederick 
Dielman,  Mr.  Carroll  Beckwith,  Mr.  Alden  Wier,  Mr. 
Irving  Wiles,  Mr.  Will  H.  Low,  Mr.  Walter  Palmer, 
Mr.  Henry  Rittenberg,  Mr.  Walter  Pach,  Mr.  W'illiam 
Henry  Shelton,  Mr.  Siddons  Mowbray,  Mr.  W.  J.  Baer, 
Mr.  E.  G.  Kennedy,  Mr.  James  Kelly,  Mr.  Howard 
Chandler  Christy,  Mr.  W.  S.  Macy,  Mr.  C.  P.  Townsley, 
and  all  others  who  have  assisted  her  in  securing  neces- 
sary data. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.      CHILDHOOD   AND   BOYHOOD 1 

ii.     NEW   YORK:     ART-STUDENT    LIFE    IN    THE 

SEVENTIES 15 

III.  AN   AMERICAN   STUDENT    IN   MUNICH         .        .  27 

IV.  VENETIAN   DAYS 45 

V.       THE    ARTISTIC    AWAKENING    IN    NEW    YORK    .  54 

VI.       NEW     FRIENDS     AND     A     PERMANENT     RELA- 
TIONSHIP            65 

VII.       A   TILE    CLUB    PILGRIMAGE 76 

VIII.       LIFE    IN    THE    TENTH    STREET   STUDIO       .        .  84 

ix.     EUROPE    REVISITED:     SPAIN    AND    VELAS- 
QUEZ          93 

X.     SPAIN  AND  HOLLAND  WITH  BLUM    .      .     .  103 

XI.       IN    LONDON   WITH    WHISTLER          .        .        .        .  Ill 

XII.       CONCERNING      THE      CHASE-WHISTLER     POR- 
TRAITS         139 

XIII.  EVENTFUL   YEARS    IN   ART   AND    LIFE        .        .  150 

XIV.  AN   END    AND    A    BEGINNING     .        .        .        ...  162 

XV.       SPAIN   AND    THE    CHASE    SCHOOL   OF   ART        .  168 

XVI.       SHINNECOCK  175 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

XVII.      MUNICH    REVISITED 189 

XVIII.      A    SUMMER   CLASS   IN    HOLLAND     ....  204 

XIX.      LONDON   AND    MADRID 214 

XX.      THE   FIRST    VISIT    TO   FLORENCE   .        .        .        .  223 

XXI.      A     FAMILY     EVENT     AND     SOME     EUROPEAN 

EPISODES 236 

XXII.      CALIFORNIA 246 

XXIII.  CHASE;    THE   MAN 253 

XXIV.  CHASE,   THE  ARTIST .        .  275 

XXV.      CHASE,    THE   ARTIST    (CONTINUED)      .        .        .  294 

XXVI.      CHASE,    THE    TEACHER          .        .        .        .        .        .  309 

XXVII.      THE    END 322 

LOCATION   OF   CHASE*S   PICTURES       .        .        .  326 

LIST  OF  MEDALS  RECEIVED   BY  WILLIAM  M. 

CHASE 330 

LETTERS  AND  SKETCHES  BY  CHASE  AND  HIS 

FRIENDS   .  331 


INDEX 


[x] 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

SELF-PORTRAIT     OF     THE     ARTIST     PAINTED     IN     HIS 

FIFTH   AVENUE   STUDIO FRONTISPIECE 

FACING  PAGE 

WILLIAM   MERRITT    CHASE,    ABOUT    1861     ....  6 

CHASE   AS   A    SAILOR   ON   THE    "PORTSMOUTH,"    1868          10 

PORTRAIT    OF    CHASE    BY    HIS   MASTER,    J.    O.    EATON, 

PAINTED    IN   NEW   YORK   IN    1870         ....          18 

PHOTOGRAPH   OF   CHASE   TAKEN  IN   ST.    LOUIS  ABOUT 

1872  ............          24 

CHASE'S  ORIGINAL  SKETCH  MADE  FOR  THE  COLUMBUS 

COMPETITION  AT  THE  MUNICH  ROYAL  ACADEMY      38 

THE  SECOND  COLUMBUS  SKETCH  MADE  AFTER  PI- 
LOTY'S  CRITICISM  OF  THE  UNCONVENTIONAL 
COMPOSITION 38 

ONE  OF  THE  PILOTY  CHILDREN 40 

READY  FOR  THE  RIDE 54 

CHASE  DRESSED  IN  VAN  DYCK  COSTUME  FOR  A  MAS- 
QUERADE BALL,  IN  THE  EARLY  EIGHTIES  .  .  62 

"PRIAM,"  A  TILE  CLUB  SERVITOR 80 

SUNLIGHT  AND  SHADOW 108 

CHASE'S  PORTRAIT  OF  WHISTLER,   CHARACTERIZED 

BY  THE  SUBJECT  AS  "A  MONSTROUS  LAMPOON"     114 

WHISTLER,  CHASE,  AND  MENPES   .     .     .     .     .     .     144 

THE  TENTH  STREET  STUDIO 154 

[Xi] 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PACING  PAGE 

THE   HALL  AT   SHINNECOCK 164 

ALICE 166 

CHASE  IN  HIS  FIFTH  AVENUE  STUDIO      ....  172 

IDLE  HOURS 176 

CHASE'S  MOTHER 186 

PORTRAIT  OF  ROBERT  BLUM  BY  CHASE   ....  192 

STILL  LIFE FISH 228 

THE  LADY  WITH  THE  WHITE  SHAWL        ....  232 

A  BELGIAN  MELON  .      . 240 

CHASE  PAINTING  FOR  HIS  CLASS  AT  CARMEL,  CALI- 
FORNIA      248 

THE  BLACK  KIMONO 254 

CHASE  AND  HIS  WIFE 264 

THE  ARTIST'S  WIFE  AND  CHILDREN  AND  THE  FIRST 

SON-IN-LAW 264 

CHASE'S  PORTRAIT  OF  HIS  YOUNGEST  SON,  ROLAND 

DANA  CHASE 272 

HIDE  AND  SEEK 278 

THE  RED  BOX 282 

MOTHER  AND  CHILD 284 

PASTEL  SKETCH  OF  THE  ARTIST' S  WIFE  IN  THE  SHIN- 
NECOCK STUDIO 292 

DOROTHY  AND  HER  SISTER .  306 

PORTRAIT  OF  A.  B.  GWATHMEY 322 

[  Xii  ] 


ILLUSTRATIONS 
LETTERS  AND  SKETCHES  BY  CHASE  AND  HIS  FRIENDS 

PAGE 

SILHOUETTES    MADE    BY    CHASE,     CHURCH,    DIELMAN 
AND    SHIRLAW    AT    THE    GERSONS'    HOME    ABOUT 

1879 333 

LETTER  FROM  F.  S.  CHURCH  TO  MISS  GERSON,  ABOUT 

1879 334 

LETTER  FROM  BLUM  TO  CHASE,  1881    ....  335 

LETTER  FROM  CHASE  TO  ALICE  GERSON,  1881  .    .  336 

LETTER  FROM  BLUM  TO  CHASE,  SPAIN,  1882   .    .  337 

LETTER  FROM  BLUM  IN  VENICE,  1885   ....  338 

CARICATURES  OF  TWACHTMAN  AND  CHASE  IN  A 

LETTER  FROM  BLUM  TO  CHASE,  1885   .   .   .   339 

LETTER  FROM  BLUM  TO  CHASE  FROM  VENICE,  1885   340 
LETTER  FROM  TWACHTMAN  TO  CHASE  FROM  VENICE, 

1885 341 

LETTER   FROM   BLUM   TO   CHASE,   VENICE,    1885    .        .       342 

LETTER    FROM    BLUM    IN    VENICE    TO    CHASE    IN    NEW 

YORK,    ABOUT    1889 343 

VENETIAN     SKETCHES     IN     LETTER     FROM     BLUM     TO 

CHASE,    ABOUT    1889 344 

VENETIAN     SKETCHES     IN     LETTER     FROM     BLUM     TO 

CHASE,    ABOUT    1889 345 

VENETIAN     SKETCHES     IN     LETTER     FROM     BLUM     TO 

CHASE,    ABOUT    1889 346 

LETTER   FROM   BLUM   TO   CHASE,    1890         ....       347 
LETTER   FROM    BLUM    IX    JAPAN   TO   CHASE,    1891         .       348 

[  xiiij 


THE   LIFE  AND  ART  OF 
WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 


CHAPTER  I 
CHILDHOOD  AND  BOYHOOD 

WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE  was  born  in  the 
little  town  of  Williamsburg,  Franklin  County, 
Indiana,  on  November  1st,  1849.  His  father,  David 
Hester  Chase,  was  a  native  of  Indiana  to  which  State 
his  father,  William  Chase's  grandfather,  had  emigrated 
from  Kentucky.  His  mother,  Sarah  Swaim,  was  also  born 
in  Indiana.  The  Chase  family  lived  in  Williamsburg 
until  William  Chase  was  about  twelve  years  old. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  an  environment  more 
remote  from  aesthetic  suggestion  than  the  small  West- 
ern town  of  that  period.  Art  taste  in  the  world  at  large 
was  at  its  lowest  ebb.  Such  indications  of  a  turning  tide 
as  were  working  below  the  surface  in  the  Old  World  had 
caused  no  ripple  in  America.  In  these  days  when  every 
little  foreign  child  of  the  tenements  is  taught  to  draw 
in  our  public  schools,  when  the  elaborate  nurturing 
systems  of  education  in  this  country,  and  especially  in 
the  West,  coax  the  most  indifferent  child  into  an  at- 
tempt at  art  expression,  naturally  the  awakening  to  the 
mere  existence  of  beauty  is  often  mistaken  by  child, 
parent,  and  even  teacher  for  a  "talent  for  art,"  so  that, 
art  schools  are  as  numerous  as  dandelions,  and  as  over- 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

crowded  as  the  New  York  Subway.  That  being  the 
situation  to-day,  it  is  almost  impossible  for  us  to  pic- 
ture the  bareness  and  limitation  of  such  an  environ- 
ment as  that  in  which  the  childhood  and  boyhood  of 
William  Chase  were  passed.  His  early  concepts  of  art 
were  gained  from  chromos,  the  crude,  naive,  preposter- 
ous chromos  that  adorned  the  simple  homes  of  the 
period,  and  the  illustrations  of  such  books  as  found 
their  way  into  his  circle,  for  the  most  part  religious  or 
moral  works  illustrated  by  a  few  woodcuts  equally 
crude  in  design  and  reproduction.  These  the  boy  used 
to  copy — not  in  his  playtime,  but  in  the  hours  dedi- 
cated to  "studying  lessons."  As  far  back  as  he  can 
remember  he  had  the  ambition,  as  he  expressed  it  then, 
"to  make  pictures  for  books."  His  attempts  to  draw 
began  very  early,  but  he  did  not  have  any  painting  ma- 
terials until  he  was  twelve  or  fourteen,  and  then  only 
such  colored  pencils  or  water-color  paints  as  are  given  to 
children  for  playthings. 

His  mother  tells  an  anecdote  of  his  early  childhood 
which,  while  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  his  art  develop- 
ment, shows  that  William  Merritt  Chase  even  at  the 
tender  age  of  five  years  could  plan  how  to  obtain  his 
desires  without  doing  violence  to  his  conscience. 

One  morning  while  out  on  some  errands,  she  left  her 

[2] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  BOYHOOD 

little  boy  in  the  yard  of  a  friend's  house  for  a  few  mo- 
ments. There  was  a  small  tree  full  of  ripe  pears  within 
the  child's  reach,  and  his  mother  before  she  left  him 
forbade  him  to  pick  any  of  the  fruit.  When  she  came 
back  she  found  that  her  young  son  had  quite  literally 
obeyed  her;  he  had  not  picked  a  single  pear,  but  he  had 
eaten  several  directly  from  the  tree,  leaving  the  •  cores 
still  attached  to  the  parent  stem. 

The  oldest  of  seven  children,  Chase  said  he  was  dimly 
conscious  of  being  unlike  his  brothers  and  sisters.  He 
did  not,  however,  isolate  himself  from  them  but  played 
all  the  usual  boyish  games,  not  lacking  the  normal  Amer- 
ican boy's  enthusiasm  for  baseball.  A  fellow  towns- 
woman  still  recalls  a  peculiarly  hideous  baseball  costume 
he  used  to  wear,  which  would  seem  to  indicate  that  his 
art  instinct  was  not  unhealthfully  precocious. 

In  the  school  that  he  attended,  the  teacher  had  a 
drawing  class  after  school  hours.  Drawing  lessons  at 
that  time  meant  making  copies  in  pencil  from  a  drawing- 
book,  filled  with  outline  pictures  of  domestic  animals, 
luxuriant  trees,  church-spires,  and  old  oaken  buckets. 
In  this  guileless  form  of  art,  Chase's  prowess  soon  far 
outstripped  his  teacher's  skill.  Soon  he  began  to  draw 
from  life,  people  and  things.  He  made  profile  por- 
traits of  the  members  of  his  family  and  his  friends. 

[8] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

"  He  had  only  to  make  a  few  marks  and  the  thing  was 
done,"  his  brother  said,  recalling  his  boyish  wonder 
over  that  mysterious  gift. 

Chase's  schoolmates  apparently  did  not  hold  the 
young  artist's  talent  in  great  regard,  but  reviewing  those 
days  Chase  never  sentimentalized  his  lack  of  recogni- 
tion. "I  am  not  sure  that  it  is  a  bad  thing  to  go  to  a 
school,  as  I  did,  where  the  boys  threw  things  at  me, 
and  asked  if  there  was  nothing  else  I  could  do,"  he  said 
once  to  his  class. 

His  brother  George  tells  an  anecdote  of  the  young 
artist's  first  attempt  at  making  a  portrait.  The  two  boys 
had  gone  to  visit  an  uncle  living  in  a  neighboring  town. 
William  was  about  twelve  years  old  at  the  time.  His 
fame  as  a  draftsman  had  reached  the  little  circle  of 
his  uncle's  friends,  and  when  it  was  announced  that 
he  would  draw  his  cousin,  all  the  neighbors  came  in 
to  watch  the  process.  Very  much  as  his  large  class  of 
pupils  used  to  stand  absorbed  while  Chase  "painted  for 
the  class,"  the  boy's  audience  watched  and  marvelled. 
The  picture,  his  brother  recalls,  "looked  just  like  the 
child,"  which  shows  that  before  he  had  any  instruction 
William  Chase  could  make  a  recognizable  likeness.  Then, 
as  in  later  years,  he  worked  constantly.  "He  always  left 
a  drawing  wherever  he  went,"  his  brother  says. 

[4] 


- 


CHILDHOOD  AND  BOYHOOD 

At  another  time  the  patriotic  young  artist  painted 
the  portraits  of  all  the  Presidents  of  the  United  States, 
using  the  woodcuts  in  an  old  history  as  a  basis.  He 
used  to  refer  to  this  collection  with  mingled  amusement 
and  horror.  "Covered  the  walls  of  my  room  with  them. 
.  .  .  Terrible  things!"  No  one  could  invest  that  epithet 
with  darker  implications.  To  Chase  bad  art  was  the 
world's  profoundest  tragedy. 

Although  his  youth  was  not  an  unhappy  one,  all 
through  it  the  boy  evidently  had  that  vague  sense  of 
being  a  misfit  that  is  the  sum  of  a  child's  awareness  of 
his  innate  essential  differences.  He  wanted  something 
that  his  life  did  not  give,  and  had  moods  of  restlessness 
and  unformulated  discontent. 

A  sensitive  boy,  he  would  never  ask  for  a  thing  twice 
no  matter  how  much  he  wanted  it;  if  he  had  been  once 
refused  he  could  not  speak  of  it  again,  whereas  his  more 
buoyant  brother  would  tease  their  stern  father  for  the 
thing  he  desired  until  he  got  it.  Indeed,  young  William 
Chase  was  on  the  verge  of  running  away  more  than 
once,  only  his  affection  for  his  mother  kept  him  at  home. 

One  of  the  grievances  that  he  remembered  from  that 
far-away  time,  was  an  occasion  when  his  father  had 
promised  to  take  him  on  a  "buggy-ride,"  to  the  neigh- 
boring town  of  Franklin.  For  some  reason  his  brother 

[5] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

George  was  seized  with  a  violent  longing  to  take  that 
particular  drive,  and  drawing  his  older  brother  aside 
he  offered  to  give  him  his  pony  in  exchange  for  the  priv- 
ilege of  the  trip  to  Franklin.  Young  William,  able  to  see 
at  once  that  the  pony  would  last  longer  than  the  pleasure 
trip,  readily  agreed  to  stay  home  while  George  went  to 
Franklin  with  his  father.  Naturally,  when  the  drive  was 
over,  George  regretted  his  impulsive  offer  and  began 
making  efforts  to  recover  the  pony.  The  tale  coming 
to  the  father's  ear,  he  made  William,  or  Merritt,  as  he 
was  called  in  the  family,  give  the  pony  back  to  its  orig- 
inal owner.  Whether  the  boy  felt  that  his  superior 
foresight  entitled  him  to  possession  of  the  pony,  or 
whether  he  was  simply  unhappy  at  having  to  give  it 
up,  its  loss  and  the  fact  that  his  brother  was  not  made 
to  live  up  to  his  part  of  the  bargain  rankled  in  his  mem- 
ory for  long  afterward. 

When  William  Chase  was  twelve  years  of  age,  his 
father  moved  to  Indianapolis.  The  larger  town  broadened 
the  boy's  horizon  somewhat.  He  gained  among  other 
things  new  ideas  of  entertainment.  The  moral  code  of 
the  Chase  family  forbade  cards,  dancing,  and  the  theatre; 
but  in  wicked  Indianapolis  William  permitted  himself 
to  be  led  astray.  One  day  a  boy  called  his  attention  to 
the  fact  that  a  travelling  theatrical  company  playing 

[6] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE,  ABOUT  1861. 


CHILDHOOD  AND  BOYHOOD 

in  the  town  had  advertised  its  need  of  warriors  for 
"supers"  in  a  so-called  "classic  drama."  The  boy  con- 
fided his  intention  of  offering  his  services,  as  one  could 
then  see  the  play  for  nothing.  Young  William  decided 
with  some  misgivings  to  accompany  his  friend.  Both 
boys  were  engaged,  and  so  fitted  out  with  a  helmet  too 
large,  a  misfit  tunic,  and  an  embarrassingly  long  spear, 
William  Chase  made  his  first  and  last  appearance  on 
any  stage.  So  successful  was  he,  in  spite  of  his  agonized 
fear  that  some  friend  would  pierce  through  his  heroic 
disguise  and  report  him  to  his  parents,  that  he  was 
promoted  to  a  speaking  part  of  one  line  after  a  few  days. 
For  a  time  he  was  held  by  the  lure  of  the  footlights, 
then  the  fear  of  discovery  conquered,  and  he  gave  up 
his  double  life. 

When  Chase  was  about  fifteen  or  sixteen  his  father, 
who  was  a  shoe-dealer,  took  him  into  his  shop  as  a  clerk. 
But  the  boy  spent  so  much  time  drawing  on  the  wrapping- 
paper,  and  paid  so  little  attention  to  customers  that 
Chase  pere,  a  good  Methodist,  began  to  regard  his  er- 
ratic and  useless  son  as  a  visitation  of  Providence.  It 
was  evident  that  young  William  Chase  did  not  have 
his  heart  in  the  shoe  business.  He  was  likely  to  slip  out 
of  the  shop  at  the  most  crowded  hour  to  look  at  the 
works  of  art  displayed  in  a  neighboring  shop-window. 

[7] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

Before  these  chromos,  story-telling  nictures,  "Terrible 
Things"  to  the  understanding  of  later  years,  young 
Chase  used  to  stand  enraptured;  hoping,  he  said,  that 
some  day  he  might  be  able  to  paint  like  that,  yet  fear- 
ing that  he  could  never  attain  to  such  heights  of  achieve- 
ment. Chase  of  the  hat,  the  stick,  the  spats,  the  white 
carnation,  Chase  the  master,  standing  enthralled  be- 
fore a  chromo  in  an  Indianapolis  window !  A  picture 
in  whose  incongruities  pathos  and  humor  are  mingled. 

As  he  grew  older,  with  a  restlessness  born  of  the  fact 
that  he  had  not  yet  found  the  thing  his  nature  demanded, 
the  boy  decided  that  he  would  like  to  be  a  sailor,  and 
begged  his  father  to  let  him  enter  the  navy.  When  he 
found  that  he  was  too  old  to  be  entered  at  Annapolis, 
for  he  was  then  nineteen,  he  still  clung  to  the  idea  of 
going  to  sea.  He  consulted  with  another  dissatisfied 
spirit,  a  young  clerk  in  his  father's  store,  and  they  both 
decided  that  if  they  could  not  start  as  middies,  they 
would  begin  as  sailors,  from  which  humble  position  their 
virtues  and  talents  would  soon  raise  them  to  the  ad- 
miralty. "For  Merritt  always  had  the  idea  of  being 
somebody  of  importance  in  the  world,"  his  mother 
said. 

The  father,  glad  to  have  his  son  interested  in  some- 
thing more  tangible  and  lucrative  than  art,  gave  his 

[8] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  BOYHOOD 

consent,  and  William  and  his  friend  boarded  a  train 
for  Annapolis.  No  doubt  that  desire  to  be  a  sailor  was 
but  an  expression  of  the  imaginative  impulse  of  the 
boy  born  inland  to  whom  the  unseen  ocean  stood  for 
mystery,  romance,  escape — what  Lafcadio  Hearn  calls 
the  mesmerism  of  the  sea — for  contact  with  the  actual 
life  soon  proved  that  he  had  no  real  liking  for  it.  The 
two  boys  were  accepted  and  were  placed  on  the  school- 
ship  Portsmouth  which  was  then  starting  on  a  three 
months'  cruise.  But  very  soon  after  the  ship  had  left 
land  William  Chase  found  that  he  had  made  a  sad  mis- 
take. 

It  is  an  interesting  parallel  between  the  lives  of  two 
distinguished  American  painters,  that  both  Chase  and 
Whistler  should  have  started  life  in  the  service  of  their 
country.  In  Whistler's  case  the  misfit  career  was  forced 
upon  him,  and  was  continued  for  a  longer  period;  but 
Chase's  desire  to  become  a  naval  officer  did  not  long 
survive  the  hardships  he  found  himself  called  upon  to 
endure  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder. 

On  the  ship  he  was  not  very  popular.  One  of  the  petty 
officers  disliked  the  absent-minded  boy  and  made  him 
perform  all  the  unpopular  tasks.  The  sailors  were  rather 
a  rough  lot  and  William  Chase,  an  artist  to  the  soul, 
was  thoroughly  unhappy  among  them.  He  remembered 

[9] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

one  day  as  he  sat  apart  that  an  officer  stopped  to  speak 
to  him,  and  asked  him  how  he  happened  to  be  there. 
His  only  pleasure  in  those  miserable  days  was  watching 
one  of  the  officers  paint  pictures  of  the  sea. 

When  the  tale  of  the  boy's  suffering  had  been  poured 
into  the  parental  ear,  Chase's  father,  who  was  not  un- 
kind but  only  rather  bewildered  by  his  inexplicable  son, 
travelled  in  person  to  New  York  to  obtain  his  son's  dis- 
charge. Indeed  so  moved  was  he  by  William's  pathetic 
story  that,  despite  his  puritanical  idea  of  the  proportion 
that  should  be  given  to  the  pleasures  of  life,  he  made 
an  event  of  the  emancipation,  and  not  only  bought  his 
son  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  but  took  both  boys  out  to 
dinner  and  the  theatre — a  form  of  dissipation  to  which 
the  father  had  gradually  made  concessions. 

William  Chase  returned  for  a  time  to  the  uncongenial 
task  of  clerk  in  his  father's  shop,  but  the  art  impulse 
still  persisted  and  found  its  way  to  expression.  At  the 
time  that  he  returned  from  sea  his  father's  new  house 
built  on  the  outskirts  of  Indianapolis  was  just  finished, 
and  the  workmen's  materials  were  still  lying  about. 
Up  to  this  time  the  young  artist  had  never  had  the  op- 
portunity to  use  oil-paints,  but  when  he  found  a  number 
of  cans  of  house-paint  standing  in  one  of  the  empty 
rooms  an  idea  struck  him  and  he  took  possession  of 

[10] 


CHASE  AS  A  SAILOR  ON  THE  "PORTSMOUTH,"  1868. 


CHILDHOOD  AND  BOYHOOD 

them.  With  these  and  the  house-painter's  brushes  he 
painted  a  portrait  of  the  captain  of  the  Portsmouth  on 
a  large  piece  of  sheet  iron,  also  left  behind  by  the  work- 
men. Nearly  forty  years  later  Chase,  the  arrived  artist, 
made  unique  and  original  experiments  in  the  use  of 
house-paint,  his  first  medium.  But  it  is  doubtful 
if  any  success  of  his  maturity,  so  rich  in  expression, 
could  compare  with  the  joy  of  that  first  adventure  in 
paint. 

Delighted  with  the  possibilities  of  this  new  medium, 
William  Chase  made  a  second  experiment,  and  painted 
next  a  picture  of  his  father's  calf.  His  manner  of  pos- 
ing his  subject  was  ingenious  to  say  the  least.  He  had 
found,  also  among  the  house-builder's  debris,  a  board 
containing  a  particularly  large  knot-hole.  Through  this 
hole,  according  to  his  plan,  the  calf's  head  was  to  be 
thrust  while  his  brother  George,  pressed  into  service, 
was  expected  to  hold  the  calf  in  pose  from  behind. 

George  consented,  but  found  his  position  no  sinecure, 
as  the  bewildered  calf  struggled  violently  in  his  arms. 
From  time  to  time  he  urged  the  absorbed  artist  to 
"hurry,"  but  the  young  animal-painter's  calm  reply 
was,  "Just  hold  him  a  little  longer,"  as  he  leaned  back 
and  squinted  critically  at  his  work.  And  his  brother, 
feeling  somehow  compelled  to  comply,  continued  to  hold 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

on  until  the  artist  laid  down  his  brushes.  This  picture 
is  still  in  existence,  and  is  the  property  of  the  painter's 
assistant. 

Another  day  Chase  decided  to  make  a  plaster  cast 
of  his  mother,  but  being  inexperienced  in  the  art  of  cast- 
making,  he  found  himself  unable  to  remove  the  hard- 
ened plaster  which  stuck  to  the  patient  lady's  eye- 
brows. The  frightened  younger  children  stood  about 
while  young  William  chipped  away  the  plaster  bit  by 
bit  in  the  work  of  rescue.  It  is  testimony  to  the  maternal 
devotion  that  Mrs.  Chase,  after  this  highly  unpleasant 
experience,  consented  to  the  operation  again.  That  time 
the  craftsman  had  learned  his  lesson,  and  removed  the 
cast  without  accident. 

In  the  new  house,  which  was  large  and  commodious, 
William  Chase  had  a  room  to  himself  which  he  used  as 
a  studio,  often  pressing  his  brothers  and  sisters  into 
service  as  models.  The  attempt  to  reproduce  what  he 
saw  with  his  pencil  had  an  unceasing  fascination  for 
him,  and  at  last,  not  many  months  after  the  Annapolis 
fiasco,  the  father  consented  to  take  his  son  to  "an  artist," 
and  get  his  opinion  about  the  advisability  of  having  the 
boy  study  drawing. 

But  the  artist  would  have  none  of  William  Mer- 
ritt  Chase.  Without  hesitation  he  condemned  him  and 

[12] 


CHILDHOOD  AND  BOYHOOD 

prophesied  that  the  boy  could  never  hope  to  succeed  in 
his  chosen  career. 

This  discouragement  while  confirming  the  father's 
worst  fears,  had  the  opposite  effect  upon  the  son.  He 
started  in  with  even  greater  determination,  bought  his 
first  box  of  real  painting  materials,  and  began  to  experi- 
ment with  them.  Eventually  his  father  was  persuaded 
to  take  him  to  another  artist.  This  man,  Benjamin 
Hayes,  a  person  of  a  more  advanced  type,  realized  at 
once  that  the  boy  had  talent  and  gladly  accepted  him 
as  a  pupil. 

Chase  made  great  strides  now.  One  day  he  sold  a 
picture  for  ten  dollars.  That  helped  to  convince  his 
father  of  the  practical  value  of  art.  Soon  after  that 
the  young  artist  took  a  room  outside  for  a  studio.  One 
day,  shortly  after  he  had  established  himself  in  his  new 
quarters,  a  man  came  in  with  a  black  eye  which  he  re- 
quested the  young  artist  to  paint.  This  Chase  did  so 
successfully,  according  to  his  brother,  that  his  afflicted 
client  bestowed  five  dollars  upon  him  in  recognition  of 
his  services. 

Chase  studied  for  several  months  with  Benjamin 
Hayes.  Needless  to  state,  art  as  studied  at  that  period 
was  as  far  from  the  art-school  curriculum  of  to-day  as 
a  chenille  mat  in  a  farmhouse  parlor  is  from  a  fine  bit 

[13] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

i 

of  Oriental  embroidery.  What  William  Chase  learned 
from  his  Indianapolis  teacher  could  not,  of  course,  have 
amounted  to  much  as  art  instruction,  but  it  proved  a 
starting-point,  for  Hayes  did  Chase  the  immeasurable 
service  of  convincing  his  parents  that  their  son  should 
have  an  art  education.  Before  long  he  declared  that  his 
pupil  had  learned  all  that  he  could  teach  him,  and  sug- 
gested that  the  young  man  should  be  sent  to  New  York. 
He  gave  him  a  letter  to  J.  O.  Eaton,  and  armed  with 
this  introduction  and  a  number  of  his  finished  canvases 
Chase  went  to  New  York  to  study  art  in  earnest. 

This  was  in  1869.  At  that  time  William  Chase  was 
exactly  twenty  years  old. 


[14] 


CHAPTER  II 
NEW  YORK:   ART-STUDENT  LIFE  IN  THE  SEVENTIES 

THE  New  York  in  which  the  young  Western  boy 
found  himself  was  a  very  different  city  from  the 
New  York  of  to-day.  In  the  early  seventies  New  York 
was  still  an  American  city.  All  the  region  above 
Twenty-third  Street,  was  "up-town,"  and  horse-cars 
jingled  their  deliberate  way  along  the  uncrowded  streets. 
In  the  afternoon  the  aristocratic  New  Yorker  took  a 
discreet  ride  in  a  barouche  in  "The  Park.'*  Nurse-maids 
pushed  baby-carriages  along  the  curving  paths  of  the 
city  squares.  Union  Square  was  then  a  residence  district. 
The  "brownstone  front"  represented  the  acme  of  ele- 
gance. The  red-brick  houses  with  white  pillared  en- 
trances in  Washington  Square  and  the  neighboring 
cross-streets  were  considered  old-fashioned.  There  were 
no  specifically  foreign  quarters  in  those  days.  The  pop- 
ulation of  the  Bowery  was  mainly  Irish,  although  the 
Germans  who  began  to  emigrate  to  America  in  large 
numbers  about  that  time  were  settling  there. 

Although  it  must  have  seemed  a  teeming  metropolis  to 
the  boy  from  the  small  Western  town,  it  would  look  like 
a  sleepy  bit  of  the  Old  World  to  us  to-day.  Art  was  a 
negligible  term  to  the  New  Yorker  of  the  seventies.  The 

[15] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

thing  he  knew  by  that  name  was  a  naive  and  lifeless 
product.  A  better  art,  the  outgrowth  of  eighteenth-cen- 
tury English  portraiture  had  preceded  it,  but  at  the 
time  William  Chase  first  saw  New  York  in  1869  the 
darkness  of  the  Victorian  age  lay  upon  the  face  of  the 
waters,  and  it  seemed  that  they  moved  not.  Some  pic- 
tures of  the  Diisseldorf  School,  the  first  continental  art 
works  to  be  exported  to  America,  were  to  be  seen  in 
the  shops  of  the  dealers;  but  as  a  rule  landscapes  of  the 
Hudson  River  School  adorned  the  walls  of  the  wealthy 
New  Yorker,  together  with  family  portraits,  poor  copies 
of  Raphael,  Guido  Reni  and  Carlo  Dolci  brought  home 
from  Italy,  and  steel-engravings  of  American  historical 
subjects.  Leutze,  a  German  painter  who  came  to  live  in 
America,  had  something  to  do  with  introducing  Diissel- 
dorf methods  in  this  country.  William  Hunt  had  ac- 
quainted Boston  with  the  Barbizon  painters,  but  Boston 
and  New  York  were  far  apart  in  those  days,  and  while 
many  good  Bostonians  had  followed  where  Hunt  had 
led,  it  was  doubtful  if  he  had  succeeded  at  that  time  in 
imparting  any  real  recognition  of  the  lesson  of  Corot, 
Millet,  Diaz,  and  Daubigny.  George  Fuller  was  one  of 
the  few  Americans  of  that  generation  to  work  out  his  own 
salvation,  but  non-recognition  of  his  original  talent  had 
discouraged  him  into  temporary  abandonment  of  his  art. 

[16] 


ART-STUDENT  LIFE  IN  THE  SEVENTIES 

Broadly  speaking,  American  art  was  first  influenced 
by  the  English  painters,  thence  successively  by  the  art 
of  Dtisseldorf,  Munich,  and  Paris.  Subsequently  national 
characteristics  were  lost  in  acceptance  of  the  ideas  un- 
derlying modern  art  which  have  been  drawn  from  various 
sources.  To-day  we  have  schools  and  movements — a  new 
one  almost  every  week — but  it  is  a  question  if  there  is 
any  longer  any  special  nationality  in  the  art  of  the  west- 
ern world.  The  chronicler  anxious  to  label  and  classify, 
perhaps  mistakes  such  external  facts  as  characteristic 
costume  and  landscape — the  thing  which  causes  one  to 
know  where  a  picture  was  painted — for  a  national  char- 
acter in  the  art  itself. 

With  the  return  of  the  so-called  "younger  painters" 
to  America  from  Paris  and  Munich,  came  the  beginning 
of  that  invasion  of  the  new  ideas  which  was  to  revolu- 
tionize art,  but  as  the  pilgrimage  of  American  students 
to  Munich  did  not  really  begin  until  1870,  it  was  not 
until  a  year  or  two  later  that  the  first  men  returned  to 
America  with  the  result  of  their  studies. 

The  Munich  influence  seems  to  have  somewhat  pre- 
ceded that  of  Paris,  yet  neither  worked  an  immediate 
and  complete  reform.  Throughout  the  remainder  of 
the  nineteenth  century  the  pernicious  ideal  of  pret- 
tiness  still  lingered — that  quality  which  so  infuriated 

[17] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

Chase  and  Whistler  in  the  work  of  the  Royal  Academi- 
cians of  the  Sir  Frederick  Leigh  ton  type — "the  bon- 
bon-box sort  of  thing,"  Chase  with  infinite  scorn  used 
to  call  it.  Indeed,  survivals  of  that  black- walnut-furni- 
ture period  in  art  may  still  be  found  from  time  to  time 
upon  our  exhibition  walls,  despite  impressionism,  post- 
impressionism,  and  futurism.  At  the  time  that  Chase 
came  to  New  York  in  1869,  the  ideal  of  academic  paint- 
ing remained  unchallenged  despite  the  example  of  a 
few  painters  of  more  spontaneous  talent  like  George 
Fuller  and  Winslow  Homer.  The  individuality  of  George 
Inness'  work,  like  Chase's,  did  not  develop  until  he 
came  in  contact  with  Continental  art. 

Upon  reaching  New  York,  Chase  made  his  way  at 
once  to  the  studio  of  J.  0.  Eaton.  Eaton  was  just  about 
to  sail  for  Europe  when  the  young  man  arrived.  He  de- 
clined at  first  to  have  anything  to  do  with  his  prospective 
pupil,  but  when  he  saw  the  boy's  work,  he  gave  him  the 
key  to  his  studio  and  told  him  to  go  in  and  use  it  until 
he  came  back,  so  young  Chase  took  possession  of  the 
place.  He  also  worked  in  the  classes  of  the  Academy  of 
Design.  For  almost  two  years  he  studied  with  Eaton, 
the  second  year  taking  a  studio  of  his  own  in  the  Young 
Men's  Christian  Association  building — only  two  blocks 
away  from  the  Fourth  Avenue  Studio  where  he  worked 

[18] 


PORTRAIT  OF  (HASP:  BY  HIS  MASTER,  J.  O.  EATON, 
PAINTED  IN  NEW  YORK  IN  1870 


ART-STUDENT  LIFE  IN  THE  SEVENTIES 

the  last  eight  years  of  his  life,  and  a  short  distance  from 
the  house  which  was  his  home  for  over  twenty  years. 

Eaton  painted  a  portrait  of  Chase  at  this  time  which 
is  now  in  the  possession  of  Chase's  mother.  It  shows  a 
fine,  not  to  say  romantic,  looking  young  man  seen  in 
profile  without  the  beard,  with  which  all  who  knew  him 
in  later  years  associate  him.  Although  well-drawn,  it  is 
of  its  period  in  the  manner  of  painting,  yet  J.  O.  Eaton 
ranked  high  in  his  day.  Wyatt  Eaton  (who  was  not  re- 
lated to  him)  was  another  of  his  talented  pupils,  and 
Mr.  W.  S.  Macy,  a  fellow  student  of  Chase's  both  in 
New  York  and  Munich,  recalls  interesting  gatherings 
in  Eaton's  studio  where  Chase  and  Bret  Harte  were 
guests,  also  Sarah  Jewett,  a  popular  actress  who  was 
then  leading  lady  of  the  Union  Square  Stock  Company. 
It  is  probable  that  Edwin  Abbey  was  also  one  of  the 
group,  for  James  Kelly,  the  sculptor,  remembers  an  in- 
teresting drawing  that  Abbey  made  of  Miss  Jewett 
about  that  time. 

Studio  life  at  that  period  was  scarcely  in  its  beginning. 
The  studio  with  a  skylight  was  practically  unknown. 
The  painters  and  students  had  rooms  if  possible  with 
a  north  light,  but  frequently  without,  in  which  they 
painted  landscapes  indoors,  portraits  or  "ideal  heads" 
without  a  model.  A  number  of  them  lived  in  the  beau- 

[19] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

tiful  old  University  building  on  Washington  Square, 
now  destroyed,  but  associated  for  all  time  with  the 
name  of  Samuel  Morse.  Ivy-covered  and  lighted  by  dim 
lamps  in  the  side  streets,  it  had  a  strong  suggestion  of 
London.  Booth's  Theatre,  at  Sixth  Avenue  and  Twenty- 
third  Street,  harbored  a  number  of  artists,  among  them 
George  Inness.  The  Young  Men's  Christian  Association 
building  at  East  Twenty-third  Street,  where  Chase  lived 
and  painted,  the  second  studio  building  of  New  York, 
was  then  new  and  full  of  artists.  On  the  opposite  corner 
of  Fourth  Avenue  and  Twenty-third  Street  was  the  new 
building  of  the  Academy  of  Design,  built  in  the  style 
of  the  Doges'  Palace.  This  pioneer  art  institution,  which 
in  its  early  days  had  known  so  many  vicissitudes,  had 
progressed  gradually  up-town  from  its  first  ante-bellum 
quarters  in  Bond  Street  to  its  fine  new  gray-stone  build- 
ing, and  was  finished  and  opened  to  students  just  about 
the  time  that  William  Chase  reached  New  York. 

The  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art  was  founded  that 
year,  and  was  located  in  West  Fourteenth  Street.  Cooper 
Union  Art  School  had  been  in  existence  about  ten  years. 
The  Tenth  Street  Studio  building,  the  first  studio  build- 
ing to  be  erected  in  New  York,  was  then  about  fourteen 
years  old.  It  must  have  been  a  familiar  sight  to  the 
young  student  with  whose  career  it  was  afterward  to 

[20] 


ART-STUDENT  LIFE  IN  THE  SEVENTIES 

be  so  closely  associated.  At  that  time  it  was  the  strong- 
hold of  the  Hudson  River  School,  and  yet  even  then 
within  its  walls  two  men  were  freeing  themselves  from 
the  formalism  of  that  Victorian  art  which  is  not  art 
at  all — Homer  Martin  and  Winslow  Homer. 

"Art  atmosphere"  did  not  exist  in  New  York  in  the 
early  seventies.  That  there  were  touches  of  innocent 
Bohemianism  we  gather  from  certain  chapters  in  Hop- 
kinson  Smith's  "Oliver  Horn,"  which  deals  with  artists' 
life  in  the  sixties  and  seventies.  But  judging  from  the 
testimony  of  the  older  painters  who  remember  that 
period,  life  then  was  as  different  as  possible  from  that 
of  students  and  artists  to-day.  The  painter  of  the  Vic- 
torian age  was  a  decorous  person,  professorial  rather 
than  artistic,  yet  not  entirely  devoid  of  characteristic 
touches.  Will  Low  remembers  that  "they  wore  soft 
hats,"  and  recalls  the  long  locks  of  Beard,  the  animal- 
painter,  which  hung  to  his  shoulders.  There  seems  reason 
to  believe  that  they  wore  velvet  coats. 

Models  were  almost  unattainable  in  those  days.  The 
undraped  model,  the  model  for  the  figure,  did  not  exist 
as  such,  although  certain  pictures  and  pieces  of  sculp- 
ture done  at  that  period  proved  that  such  models  were 
in  some  way  obtainable.  Usually  the  janitor  of  the  build- 
ing, or  one  of  the  children  of  the  laundress,  was  pressed 

[21] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

into  service  if  a  model  was  desired  for  what  was  called 
the  "life  class,"  which  corresponded  to  what  is  now 
the  portrait  or  illustration  class. 

A  Philadelphia  friend  writing  to  Samuel  Morse  in 
1813,  when  he  was  studying  with  Washington  Allston 
and  Benjamin  West  in  London,  remarks:  "Our  Academy 
of  Fine  Arts  has  begun  the  all-important  study  of  the 
live  figure.  Mr.  Sully,  Mr.  Peale,  Mr.  Fairman,  Mr. 
King,  and  several  others  have  devoted  much  attention 
to  this  branch  of  the  school,  and  I  hope  to  see  it  in  their 
hands  highly  useful  and  improving."  Nevertheless,  the 
regular  professional  model  did  not  become  an  established 
fact  until  a  number  of  years  afterward. 

In  1871  Chase  exhibited  his  first  pictures,  a  portrait 
and  a  still-life  of  Catawba  grapes  and  blue  plums.  Rosina 
Emmett  Sherwood,  who  was  one  of  Chase's  first  pupils  at 
the  Tenth  Street  Studio,  recalls  that  Chase  in  describing 
his  artistic  efforts  of  those  days,  said  that  every  grape 
was  highly  polished  and  showed  the  reflections  of  sur- 
rounding objects.  The  difference  between  that  still-life 
of  1871  and,  say,  The  Belgian  Melon,  of  Chase's  later 
years,  would  constitute  a  whole  history  of  the  develop- 
ment of  modern  art. 

Although  Chase  had  not  yet  been  able  to  formulate 
or  even  vision  the  thing  he  was  to  create,  all  the  while 


ART-STUDENT  LIFE  IN  THE  SEVENTIES 

there  was  a  spark  growing  in  the  boy's  soul  that  reached 
out  for  something  beyond,  something  better  than  the 
dry  and  dead  art  that  surrounded  him.  That  devotion 
and  tha£  outreach  toward  an  ever  more  complete  ex- 
pression that  he  carried  to  the  end,  was  stirring  within 
him  even  in  those  days  of  Prussian  blue  and  the  camel's- 
hair  brush. 

The  pictures  sold  by  popular  American  painters  at 
that  time  were  mostly  landscapes,  and  the  works  of 
Wyant,  Bierstadt,  and  other  favorites  of  the  period 
brought  prices  that  seem  excellent  even  at  this  day. 
Co-operation  between  the  dealer  and  the  native  artist 
scarcely  existed  then.  The  American  painter  disposed 
of  his  works  principally  at  the  annual  exhibitions.  Less 
frequently  he  sold  them  to  the  patron  who  went  to  his 
studio. 

There  seems  to  have  been  little  in  the  way  of  incident 
to  leave  an  impression  on  Chase's  mind  during  these 
years  in  New  York.  Although  it  was  his  first  contact 
with  the  world  to  which  he  belonged,  he  seemed  to  re- 
member that  period  of  his  life  as  a  time  of  opportunity 
and  hard  work,  opportunity  achieved  after  long  wait- 
ing and  heartache,  and  appreciated  to  the  full  measure 
of  its  value. 

It  was  characteristic  of  Chase  that  out  of  his  own 

[231 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

hard  experience  came  not  severity  and  intolerance,  but 
sympathy.  He  wanted  things  made  easy  for  the  art 
student,  not  as  they  had  been  for  him.  It  distressed  him 
to  hear  of  struggles  and  obstacles.  If  he  had  had  his 
way  the  road  to  achievement  would  have  been  level 
and  smiling.  He  used  often  to  refer  to  Sargent's  career 
(which  had  not  been  obstructed  by  poverty  or  lack  of 
parental  understanding),  not  with  envy,  but  with  pleasure 
in  the  thought  that  the  beautiful  thing  did  sometimes 
happen. 

Chase  did  not  make  himself  felt  in  New  York  in  1871. 
He  was  only  a  boy  of  twenty-two,  and  his  painting  did 
not  differ  from  that  of  the  men  about  him.  If  it  had  he 
would  probably  have  been  snubbed  into  oblivion  as 
George  Fuller  was.  The  hour  had  not  yet  struck. 

After  about  two  years  in  New  York,  he  returned  to 
the  West.  His  family  had  in  the  meantime  moved  to 
St.  Louis. 

Just  how  deeply  the  sensitive  boy  had  felt  the  con- 
tempt in  which  his  father  held  his  gift  may  be  imagined. 
He  knew  that  the  art  he  revered  and  aspired  to  was 
a  great  and  beautiful  thing;  he  knew  that  it  was  true, 
and  equally  he  realized  that  his  father  did  not  know  it. 
When  he  went  home  after  his  years  of  study  in  the  East, 
he  said  that  the  evening  of  his  arrival  his  father  asked 

[24] 


PHOTOGRAPH  OF  CHASE  TAKEN  IN  ST.  LOUIS  ABOUT  187*. 


o 


ART-STUDENT  LIFE  IN  THE  SEVENTIES 

him  to  walk  down-town  with  him,  thus  recognizing  him 
on  equal  terms  as  a  grown-up  man.  As  they  walked  along 
the  street  his  father  hailed  a  friend:  "Judge  Brown, 
I  want  you  to  meet  my  son  the  artist."  My  son  the 
artist!  Chase  never  forgot  the  thrill  he  felt  at  those 
words;  pride  he  called  it,  but  assuredly  it  was  also  some- 
thing far  deeper  and  finer,  the  son's  joy  in  his  father's 
recognition  of  the  art  he  h'ved  to  serve  and  express. 

In  St.  Louis  Chase  shared  the  studio  of  James  Wil- 
liam Pattison.  It  was  there  that  he  saw  the  canvases  of 
one  John  Mulvaney,who  had  studied  in  Munich.  Whether 
extraordinary  or  not,  they  had  something  that  the  art 
he  had  previously  known  did  not  have,  and  with  that 
perception  he  saw  a  new  light.  An  idea  took  possession 
of  him — the  pilgrimage  to  Europe,  a  dim,  imperfect  vision 
of  the  wonders  of  the  Old  World  that  awaited  him. 

Chase  remained  about  a  year  in  St.  Louis  painting  pic- 
tures, of  which  he  sold  a  number.  The  subjects  he  painted 
at  that  time  were  mostly  flower  and  fruit  studies,  and 
still  life  as  it  was  then  understood.  Before  long  he  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  some  generous  men  of  means, 
who  raised  a  sufficient  sum  of  money  among  them  to 
send  the  boy  to  Europe  to  study.  These  men  were  Samuel 
Dodd,  S.  A.  Cole,  Charles  Parsons,  and  W.  R.  Hodges. 
In  return  the  young  man  was  to  paint  a  picture  for  each 

[25] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

patron  at  the  conclusion  of  his  period  of  study,  a  condi- 
tion of  course  gladly  carried  out. 

Although  the  majority  of  men  studying  in  Europe 
at  that  period  were  in  Paris,  Chase,  like  Frederick  Diel- 
man,  Walter  Shirlaw,  Frank  Duveneck,  and  John  Twacht- 
man,  elected  to  study  in  Munich.  Doubtless  in  the 
Western  cities,  containing  as  they  then  did  many  Ger- 
mans and  the  children  of  German  emigrants,  Munich 
seemed  nearer  than  Paris.  In  any  case,  destiny  carried 
Chase  to  the  Bavarian  city,  and  there  his  real  art  life 
may  be  said  to  have  begun. 


[26] 


CHAPTER  III 
AN  AMERICAN  STUDENT  IN  MUNICH 

CHASE  reached  Munich  at  the  time  when  new  ideas 
were  germinating.  He  entered  the  Munich  Royal 
Academy  and  was  also  a  student  in  the  studio  of  Karl 
von  Piloty,  a  painter  of  vast  canvases,  historical  in  sub- 
ject, who  was  then  believed  to  be  a  great  master.  But, 
although  he  studied  with  Piloty  and  Kaulbach,  it  was 
William  Leibl,  who  represented  in  Munich  what  Couture 
did  in  Paris,  who  influenced  Chase  and  the  other  im- 
pressionable young  students  in  the  seventies. 

That,  as  has  been  said,  was  at  the  beginning  of  the 
migration  of  American  art  students  to  Germany.  Amer- 
ican portrait-painters  had  gone  to  Europe  to  study  from 
the  days  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  and  Benjamin  West,  but 
to  England,  not  to  the  Continent.  Before  the  Civil  War, 
Italy  was  the  Mecca  of  sculptors  and  artists.  Romantic 
creations  in  marble  as  well  as  copies  of  Madonnas  and 
Magdalens  were  brought  home  in  those  days,  and  ac- 
corded a  respect  which  real  art  fails  to  inspire  to-day. 
These  naive  importations  survived  for  many  years  in 
decorous  New  York  drawing-rooms.  It  is  said  that 
much  of  this  "statuary,"  as  it  was  then  called,  was 
subsequently  presented  to  the  Metropolitan  Art  Mu- 

[27] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

seum,  where  it  still  stands  in  the  twilight  of  its 
cellars. 

Doctor  Charles  Miller,  a  National  Academician  who 
had  gone  to  Munich  in  1867,  was  practically  the  first 
American  painter  to  go  to  Munich.  He  returned  to  Amer- 
ica in  1870,  the  year  that  Frank  Duveneck  arrived  at 
the  Bavarian  city.  C.  S.  Reinhart,  a  Pennsylvania 
painter  and  illustrator,  went  there  about  the  same 
time. 

After  the  Franco-Prussian  War  a  number  of  American 
art  students  went  to  Paris  and  Munich,  but  the  Munich 
influence  seems  to  have  been  felt  in  American  art  a  little 
before  the  French  school  made  its  impression. 

There  were  about  forty  American  students  in  Munich 
at  the  time  Chase  went  there,  but  soon  the  number  was 
increased  to  seventy.  Frederick  Dielman  and  William 
Chase  registered  at  the  Royal  Academy  the  same  day. 
The  academy  was  a  building  that  had  been  an  old  mon- 
astery, divided  off  into  stalls  for  the  students.  Duveneck, 
who  was  in  Munich  when  Chase  arrived,  but  who  went 
away  for  a  time  shortly  afterward,  recalls  the  swiftness 
of  the  young  man's  progress,  for  when  Chase  entered 
the  art  school  he  went  into  the  antique  class  like  any 
beginner,  but  when  Duveneck  returned  a  few  months 
later  the  young  American  student  had  become  a  celeb- 

[28] 


AN  AMERICAN  STUDENT  IN  MUNICH 

rity.  Indeed,  Chase  and  Currier  were  then  considered 
the  most  talented  of  the  Munich  students. 

Walter  Shirlaw,  Chase's  roommate,  was  another 
American  student  whose  gifts  had  received  recognition. 
Duveneck  had  already  made  his  mark.  His  criticism 
was  of  great  value  to  Chase  as  it  was  later  to  Twacht- 
man.  Julius  Rolshoven  recalls  that  Duveneck,  Shirlaw, 
and  Chase  were  nicknamed  "the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
Ghost"  by  the  other  students. 

In  Chase's  portrait  heads  of  that  period  it  is  interest- 
ing to  trace  the  Leibl  influence.  The  strong,  full  technic, 
the  characteristic  drag  of  the  paint,  with  here  and  there 
the  light  skill,  the  grace,  that  revealed  the  touch  of 
Chase. 

Eventually  that  influence  ceased  to  be  apparent 
in  his  work  as  Chase's  own  individual  manner  became 
definitely  formulated  but  he  retained  his  admiration 
for  Leibl  to  the  end  of  his  career. 

So  much  in  those  days  was  the  young  artist  possessed 
by  his  appreciation  of  the  beauty  of  the  sketch,  of  the 
power  of  the  unfinished  thing  to  suggest  what  the  finished 
work  so  often  lacks,  that  his  fellow  students  used  to  be 
afraid  that  he  would  never  finish  anything.  At  other 
times,  overwhelmed  with  the  delicious  quality  of  these 
loose  free  sketches,  they  would  beg  him  not  to  add  an- 

[29] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

other  stroke  to  his  canvas  lest  it  lose  its  freshness  and 
magic. 

Among  the  most  interesting  records  of  that  period 
are  the  canvases  painted  "from"  the  old  masters.  By 
this  method  the  student  would  first  study  the  picture  in 
the  gallery,  then  with  a  photograph  for  reference  paint 
his  memory  of  the  picture  in  his  own  studio,  a  much 
freer  and  more  valuable  aid  to  his  art  education  than 
the  literal  copying  of  a  canvas  in  the  museum. 

Chase  and  Walter  Shirlaw  lived  together  in  rooms  on 
the  Promenade  Platz  opposite  the  spot  where  the  Baye- 
rischer  Hof  now  stands.  Munich  was  a  small  city  then, 
still  retaining  its  ancient  walls,  of  which  now  only  the 
gates  remain. 

Munich  was  Chase's  first  experience  of  real  student 
life,  the  first  actual  contact  with  art  atmosphere  that 
he  had  ever  known.  It  is  small  wonder  that  he  remem- 
bered those  days  with  so  much  sentiment  and  affection. 
Student  life  in  Miinchen,  although  not  lacking  in  the 
delightful  absurdities  characteristic  of  student  life  every- 
where, seems  to  have  been  soberer  than  that  of  Paris. 
"The  best  place  to  study  is  anywhere,"  Chase  used  to 
remark  afterward  when  his  advice  was  asked.  "I  went 
to  Munich  instead  of  Paris  because  I  could  saw  wood 
in  Munich,  instead  of  frittering  in  the  Latin  merry-go- 

[30] 


AN  AMERICAN  STUDENT  IN  MUNICH 

round."  But  that  point  of  view  doubtless  represents  the 
result  of  after-reflection  rather  than  a  deliberate  choice 
at  the  time,  since  all  of  Europe,  its  art  and  life,  was  then 
an  unknown  quantity  to  the  young  American  student. 

Those  were  the  romantic  days  of  King  Ludwig  in 
Bavaria,  the  golden  age  when  Wagner  created  a  titanic 
new  world  in  music.  Chase  often  saw  the  dark,  pic- 
turesque King  drive  past,  his  horses  at  a  mad  gallop. 
But  opera,  cheap  as  it  was  at  that  time,  was  a  little 
beyond  the  means  of  the  poor  art  student.  Moreover, 
Chase's  interest  in  music,  though  genuine,  was  not  pro- 
found, so  that  that  phase  of  German  life  which  is  con- 
cerned with  the  history  of  modern  music,  the  figures  of 
King  Ludwig,  Richard  and  Cosima  Wagner,  and  the  first 
Wagnerian  opera-singers,  made  little  impression  upon 
him,  although  he  often  saw  those  beings  who  have  now, 
even  while  one  of  their  number  still  survives,  become 
almost  a  legend. 

The  students'  tickets  entitled  their  possessor  to  ad- 
mission to  the  theatres,  however,  and  this  diversion 
Chase  greatly  enjoyed,  spending  many  evenings  at  the 
Volkstheater.  Incidentally,  these  bits  of  pasteboard  in- 
sured a  certain  immunity  from  arrest,  although  the  offi- 
cers would  take  the  student's  ticket  number  and  utter 
official  words  of  warning  when  the  record  of  punishable 

[31] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

pranks  had  become  too  long.  But  Chase's  interest  in 
those  days,  as  always,  was  centred  with  great  singleness 
of  purpose  upon  his  art.  He  lived  the  usual  life  of  a  seri- 
ous student,  who  is  yet  a  normal  human  being,  enjoying 
the  theatres  and  cafes,  and  association  with  the  new 
type  of  femininity  affiliated  with  student  life  in  Europe; 
but  from  his  essential  purpose  he  never  permitted  him- 
self to  be  in  any  way  deflected.  He  never,  Duveneck  says, 
indulged  in  student  nonsense  as  much  as  the  other  boys. 
From  the  beginning  his  time  and  thought  were  concen- 
trated upon  his  work. 

The  Max  Emmanuel  Cafe  was  the  one  most  frequented 
by  the  students.  The  conduct  of  such  places  was  as 
simple  in  those  days  as  that  of  the  humblest  and  most 
remote  Gasihaus  in  Bavaria  to-day.  The  men  procured 
their  own  beer,  pretzels,  and  radishes,  a  few  cents  cover- 
ing the  cost  of  an  entire  evening's  entertainment.  In 
these  low,  dark,  panelled  old  rooms,  so  vivid  a  contrast 
to  the  Western  American  architecture  of  the  seventies, 
the  students  sat  about  until  all  hours  drinking  beer, 
telling  stories,  and  discussing  the  living  subject  of  art. 
The  stories  Chase  told  of  those  days  were  of  all  sorts, 
from  the  tale  of  the  exhilarated  student  from  Boston, 
a  roommate  of  his,  who,  in  a  spirit  of  alcoholic  fan- 
tasy, stole  a  Christmas  tree  from  the  sidewalk  of  the 

[32] 


AN  AMERICAN  STUDENT  IN  MUNICH 

Platz  on  Christmas  eve,  thus  embroiling  himself  and  his 
roommates  in  a  farcical  encounter  with  the  German 
law  on  Christmas  morning,  to  his  rapt  memories  of  the 
first  revelation  of  the  art  of  the  old  masters.  Chase 
tells  of  going  to  the  old  Pinakotek  to  study  the  pictures 
and  running  home  like  a  child  to  put  in  practice  the 
lesson  learned  while  it  was  still  fresh  in  his  mind.  The 
story  is  descriptive  of  a  phase  in  the  development  of 
the  ambitious  student  eager  to  learn  the  lesson  of  the 
old  art.  It  was  also  peculiarly  characteristic  of  Chase's 
special  type  which,  although  individual,  was  perhaps 
more  derivative  than  inventive. 

The  students  went  to  balls  of  all  sorts,  varying  from 
an  informal  students'  carouse  to  the  stately  pageant  of 
the  annual  artists'  ball,  where  all  the  guests  wore  period 
costumes.  These  occasions  ended  only  with  daylight, 
excursions  into  the  suburbs  after  the  close  of  the  ball 
being  a  frequent  occurrence. 

There  were  absurd  memories  too  that  Chase  en- 
joyed recalling,  such  as  the  trick  played  on  the  German 
student  who  always  told  his  friends  how  they  looked. 
They  were  ill  or  well,  fat  or  thin,  old  or  young.  Finally, 
the  other  students  decided  to  break  their  companion  of 
this  habit.  That  day  every  youth  greeted  the  croaker 
with  consternation  and  a  shake  of  the  head:  "My  poor 

[33] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

friend,  how  ill  you  look — you  should  be  in  bed — you 
should  see  a  doctor,"  etc.,  etc.  When  he  had  heard 
these  lugubrious  suggestions  from  a  dozen  different 
classmates,  Chase  said,  the  susceptible  German  youth 
succumbed  to  suggestion,  and  went  home  to  bed  with 
all  the  sensations  of  one  dangerously  ill,  and  summoned 
a  doctor. 

Von  Habermann,  now  one  of  the  strong  painters  of 
Germany,  was  one  of  Chase's  fellow  students  in  Munich. 
Chase  painted  a  brilliant  and  striking  portrait  of  him 
which  has  been  often  exhibited.  He  had  a  great  admira- 
tion for  the  ceremonious  and  courtly  young  baron.  Ac- 
customed as  the  Indiana  boy  had  been  to  the  simplest 
forms  of  our  less  formal  democracy,  the  graceful  habit 
of  speech  and  manner  of  the  aristocratic  Bavarian  im- 
pressed him  deeply,  and  he  frankly  set  himself  to  imi- 
tation. There  was  in  Chase's  type  a  natural  taste  for 
the  amenities.  When  he  came  back  to  New  York  after 
his  long  contact  with  continental  manners,  he  felt  deeply 
annoyed  with  the  lack  of  courtesy  of  the  man  in  the 
street.  One  day,  standing  before  the  window  of  an  art 
shop  in  Union  Square,  a  very  large  and  unpolished  person 
trod  heavily  upon  his  foot.  Chase  turned  upon  him  in 
exasperation:  "Do  you  realize,  sir,  that  you  have  al- 
most crushed  my  foot?  In  such  circumstances  the  least 

[34] 


AN  AMERICAN  STUDENT  IN  MUNICH 

you  can  do  is  to  apologize."  The  man  looked  at  him  in 
surprise.  "Well,  if  you  are  not  a  damned  fool,  you  must 
know  that  I  didn't  do  it  on  purpose,"  was  his  rational 
if  ungraceful  reply.  Chase's  wrath  faded  at  once.  "And, 
of  course,  he  was  right,"  he  said. 

Mr.  Henry  Rittenberg,  a  pupil  of  Chase's  who  met 
him  by  chance  in  Munich,  on  Chase's  only  other  visit 
there  in  1903,  recalls  an  anecdote  his  master  told  of  a 
still-life  he  painted  in  his  student  days  when  his  class- 
mates gathered  about  to  advise  him.  Always  susceptible 
to  a  certain  extent  to  influences,  a  quality  that  was  part 
of  his  broadness  of  mind  on  the  subject  of  art,  Chase 
says  he  inclined  his  ear  to  advice  from  all  directions. 
:<That  piece  of  brass  isn't  right;  why  don't  you  take  it 
out?"  "I  don't  like  that  apple."  ;'That  piece  of  copper 
spoils  your  composition."  Acting  with  great  docility 
upon  all  the  advice  he  received,  Chase  said  that  pres- 
ently he  found  his  canvas  quite  empty  and  ready  for  a 
fresh  start. 

Chase  used  to  tell  another  story  of  a  favorite  prac- 
tical joke  of  those  days  with  Prussian  blue  which  was 
practised  upon  the  crusty  Hausmeister  of  the  studio  build- 
ing who  complained  of  the  students  and  thus  won  their 
enmity.  Any  one  who  has  ever  met  this  peculiarly  vir- 
ulent pigment  knows  that  its  potency  is  such  that  a 

[  35  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

single  tube  will  practically  last  a  lifetime,  and  its  per- 
vasive power  is  so  great  that  a  fragment  let  loose  upon 
the  world  will  penetrate  in  all  directions  for  an  indefinite 
period.  In  this  case  the  students  filled  the  Hausmeister's 
keyhole  with  Prussian  blue.  The  unsuspecting  victim 
having  used  the  key  in  the  dark,  replaced  it  in  his  pocket 
without  suspicion.  His  life  thereafter  for  many  days  was 
poisoned  by  Prussian  blue  and  his  opinion  of  the  Amer- 
ican students  was  less  flattering  than  ever. 

A  student  of  Chase's  recalls  his  using  this  same  means 
of  retaliation  upon  one  of  those  tormenting  street  ur- 
chins that  crowd  upon  the  painter's  painting  arm,  breathe 
in  his  ear,  and  stumble  into  his  paint-box  in  continental 
countries.  When  he  had  endured  his  annoy er  as  long  as 
he  could,  Chase  with  a  pleasant  smile  gave  the  child 
a  tube  of  Prussian  blue  to  play  with,  and,  kind  father 
though  he  was,  watched  his  victim  running  off  with  his 
prize  with  chuckles  of  satisfaction.  As  the  painters  of 
to-day  practically  never  use  this  color,  it  is  to  be  feared 
that  its  presence  in  their  paint-box  is  for  purposes  other 
than  those  of  art. 

Once  a  number  of  American  students  were  expelled 
for  smoking  in  the  studio.  Chase,  Dielman,  and  a  Boston 
student  with  a  haughty  manner — the  same  one,  indeed, 
who  stole  the  Christmas  tree — went  armed  with  an  ex- 

[36] 


£> 


AN  AMERICAN  STUDENT  IN  MUNICH 

cellent  cigar  to  Kaulbach,  the  head  of  the  academy,  to 
ask  him  to  reconsider  his  decision.  According  to  Chase 
and  Dielman,  the  excellence  of  the  cigar  and  the  in- 
domitable manner  of  the  Bostonian  accomplished  a  re- 
versal of  the  edict. 

Chase  almost  immediately  attracted  the  attention  of 
his  master.  Piloty,  although  of  the  old  grandiloquent 
school,  was  evidently  one  who  left  his  students  open  to 
influences.  Discussions  concerning  the  old  and  new  ideas 
of  art  were  rife  in  those  days.  Chase  recalled  one  that 
had  an  amusing  result.  He  had  been  insisting  that  the 
exact  reproduction  of  nature  had  nothing  in  common 
with  art.  (I  remember  well  the  harassed  frown  with 
which  he  used  to  say  to  his  students:  "You  have  all 
heard  of  the  picture  of  the  fruit  which  was  so  natural 
that  the  birds  flew  down  to  peck  at  it?  I  do  not  need 
to  see  that  canvas  to  know  that  it  was  a  Terrible  Thing !") 
Talking,  no  doubt,  along  some  such  line  as  this,  another 
student  challenged  Chase  with  the  remark  that  whether 
art  or  not,  such  painting  represented  skill  of  a  sort,  and 
that  Chase  himself  was  doubtless  unable  to  paint  an 
object  so  that  it  would  deceive  any  one.  As  a  result  of 
this  friendly  contention  the  student  agreed  that  if  Chase 
could  perform  the  feat,  he  would  give  all  the  students 
a  dinner.  Chase  accepted  the  challenge. 

[37] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

The  next  day  when  Professor  Raab  arrived  to  criticise 
his  pupils,  he  turned,  upon  entering  to  hang  his  hat  on 
its  usual  peg  on  the  wall.  The  hat  before  the  eyes  of  the 
waiting  class  fell  to  the  ground.  The  professor  picked 
it  up  and  tried  again,  thinking  he  had  missed  the  nail; 
but  again  his  hat  fell  to  the  floor.  When  the  same  thing 
had  happened  a  third  time,  the  old  German  looked  in- 
tently at  the  wall,  then  without  a  change  of  expression 
laid  his  hat  upon  a  chair,  and  began  his  criticism.  After 
his  departure  the  class  gathered  to  examine  the  highly 
successful  imitation  of  a  nail  painted  upon  the  wall  by 
William  Chase  in  place  of  the  real  peg  of  which  he  had 
painstakingly  removed  all  traces.  That  night  the  stu- 
dents enjoyed  an  excellent  dinner  at  their  favorite 
Kneipe. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  Royal  Academy  of  Munich 
to  give  out  each  year  a  subject  for  the  prize  competi- 
tion. During  Chase's  last  year  the  subject  given  was 
some  incident  from  the  life  of  Christopher  Columbus. 
Most  of  the  students  submitted  conventional  composi- 
tions. Chase,  who  loathed  the  idea  of  the  historical  sub- 
ject, put  off  the  evil  day  until  the  time  was  almost  up. 
He  set  to  work  then  in  the  presence  of  a  number  of  his 
fellow  students  and  painted  his  sketch  with  the  figure 
of  Columbus  placed  with  his  back  to  the  spectator, 

[38] 


CRASH'S  ORIGINAL  SKETCH  MADE  FOR  THE  COLUMBUS  COMPETITION  AT  THE 
MUNICH  ROYAL  ACADEMY. 


THE  SECOND  COLUMBUS  SKETCH  MADE  AFTER  PILOTY'S  CRITICISM  OF  THE 
UNCONVENTIONAL  COMPOSITION. 


<£> 


AN  AMERICAN  STUDENT  IN  MUNICH 

which  was  the  young  painter's  way  of  showing  his  con- 
tempt for  the  academic.  Despite  this  highly  irregular 
treatment  of  his  theme,  Chase  was  awarded  the  prize 
by  the  jury,  but  old  Piloty  was  furious  when  he  discovered 
it.  How  dared  he,  Herr  Chase,  thus  represent  the  distin- 
guished adventurer  with  his  back  to  the  public !  He 
first  raved,  then  implored  his  gifted  pupil  to  make  a 
more  dignified  presentment.  At  last,  Chase,  most  con- 
cessive of  human  beings,  promised  to  change  his  com- 
position, and  turn  the  figure  of  Columbus  so  that  it 
was  in  profile.  Both  of  these  pictures,  as  well  as  the 
original  ink-sketch,  are  the  property  of  Mrs.  Chase,  and 
are  most  interesting  in  their  suggestion  of  a  certain 
touch  and  use  of  color  that  we  have  come  to  associate 
with  the  mature  Chase. 

But  the  result  of  his  amiability  dismayed  Chase. 
Piloty,  filled  with  enthusiasm,  decided  that  the  talented 
young  painter  must  treat  his  subject  upon  a  canvas 
thirty  feet  long.  "And  I  myself  will  use  my  influence 
to  have  it  placed  in  the  Capitol  at  Washington!"  Piloty 
declared.  Chase  was  filled  with  consternation.  His  ready 
wit  came  to  his  rescue,  however. 

"Alas,  Herr  Director,"  he  faltered,  "I  am  too  poor 
to  buy  a  thirty-foot  canvas."  But  Piloty  was  generous. 
"That  makes  nothing,"  he  declared.  "I  will  provide 

[39] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

you  with  the  canvas  and,  yes,  with  the  studio  as 
well!" 

So  the  overwhelmed  Chase  found  himself  in  posses- 
sion of  paints,  canvas,  and  a  studio,  and  no  excuse  for 
not  painting  the  loathed  historical  picture.  He  made  a 
feint  of  beginning,  then  went  to  his  master  with  a  new 
excuse. 

"It  is  not  right,  Herr  Director,"  he  said,  "that  I 
should  enter  upon  a  work  so  great  without  proper  prep- 
aration. Surely,  before  completing  this  important  pic- 
ture, I  should  first  go  to  Spain,  so  that  I  may  be  familiar 
with  the  types  I  am  to  represent." 

So  at  last  Piloty,  outwitted,  yielded.  The  picture  was 
never  painted.  But  before  Chase  left  Munich  Piloty 
showed  his  appreciation  of  his  revolutionary  pupil's 
talent  by  commissioning  him  to  paint  his  five  children, 
an  appreciation  which,  despite  the  different  manner 
and  method  of  the  older  painter,  was  still  a  valuable 
and  valued  tribute.  These  pictures  after  Piloty's  death 
became  each  the  property  of  the  child  painted.  One, 
that  of  a  son  who  has  since  died,  now  hangs  in  the  Piloty 
house  in  Munich. 

Chase  had  a  studio  of  his  own  in  Munich,  and  it  was 
in  this  studio  that  he  and  Duveneck  painted  at  the 
same  time  The  Turkish  Page,  and  also  his  portrait  of 

[40] 


ONE  OF  THE  PILOTY  CHILDREN. 

Painted  in  Munich  about  1877. 


AN  AMERICAN  STUDENT  IN  MUNICH 

Duveneck  called  The  Smoker,  done  in  1875.  Even  in 
those  days  Chase  had  begun  collecting  beautiful  art 
objects  and  furniture.  It  was  through  one  of  his  pur- 
chases that  this  fine  portrait  of  Duveneck,  which  was 
afterward  unfortunately  destroyed  by  fire,  was  painted. 
Chase  had  bought  an  old  chair  that  had  fascinated  him. 
He  exhibited  it  upon  its  arrival  to  Duveneck  with  his 
enthusiasm.  "Just  look  at  it,  man !  Isn't  it  a  wonderful 
thing,  a  beautiful  thing?"  And  feeling  that  he  must 
paint  it  at  once,  he  commanded  his  friend:  "Here,  sit 
down  there  a  minute,  I  want  to  see  how  it  looks."  Du- 
veneck sat  carelessly  on  the  arm  of  the  chair,  his  long 
pipe  in  his  hand.  Liking  the  way  it  looked,  Chase  set 
to  work  at  once  to  paint  it.  "The  chair,  of  course,"  Du- 
veneck explained;  "I  was  of  no  importance,  merely  an 
accessory."  So  that  is  how  the  portrait,  which  received 
honorable  mention  at  the  Salon  in  1881  and  in  Munich 
in  1883,  came  to  be  painted. 

It  was  in  1875  also  that  Chase  painted  The  Jester, 
which  was  exhibited  at  the  Philadelphia  Centennial  in 
1876.  He  used  to  tell  a  tale  of  the  model  for  this  study, 
who  was  fond  of  imbibing  anything  of  an  alcoholic  na- 
ture that  happened  to  be  available.  One  day  while  the 
painter  was  out  of  the  room  the  model  consumed  a  con- 
siderable quantity  of  hair-tonic  which  Chase  had  put  in 

[41] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

a  whiskey-bottle,  with  the  result  that  the  next  day  the 
jester  was  not  present  at  the  studio. 

The  Dowager,  exhibited  at  the  Memorial  Exhibition 
at  the  Metropolitan  Museum  in  February,  1917,  and 
also  at  the  exhibition  of  the  National  Arts  Club  in  1910, 
was  painted  a  year  earlier,  in  1874.  The  splendid  head 
of  Von  Habermann  already  referred  to  was  painted 
in  1875  and  about  the  same  time  The  Old  Cavalier, 
The  Apprentice  Boy,  and  The  Broken  Jug.  This  last  was 
exhibited  at  the  National  Academy  in  1877.  The  Boy 
Feeding  a  Cockatoo,  painted  about  that  time,  was  done 
from  the  same  model  as  The  Turkish  Page.  Ready  for  the 
Ride,  painted  in  1877,  was  exhibited  at  the  National 
Academy  in  1878.  This  picture,  now  the  property  of  the 
Union  League  Club,  was  one  of  Chase's  first  experi- 
ments in  painting  the  face  in  full  light. 

The  Munich  artists  painted  out-of-doors  to  some  ex- 
tent, but  most  landscapes,  in  the  traditional  way  of  the 
period,  were  painted  in  the  studio  from  notes  made  in 
their  sketch-books.  The  Frenchmen  were  the  first  to  paint 
in  the  open  as  students  do  to-day;  therefore,  the  land- 
scapes of  Chase,  Currier,  and  others  in  that  Munich 
period  were  often  done  indoors.  Even  the  interesting 
Venetian  pictures  painted  by  Chase  and  Twachtman  in 
1878  have  the  darkness  and  tone  of  the  interior  sub- 

[42] 


<£> 


AN  AMERICAN  STUDENT  IN  MUNICH 

ject,  for  the  painter  of  that  school  did  not  see  light  or 
atmosphere.  A  morning  landscape  was  as  dark  as  a  night 
subject.  Gradually  emancipating  himself  from  the  ex- 
treme of  this  influence,  but  retaining  its  lesson  of  tone 
quality  and  brush  technic,  Chase  continued  to  paint 
in  a  manner  very  definitely  adapted  from  the  old  mas- 
ters, whose  art  had  illumined  his  mind  through  his  study 
of  the  Munich  galleries.  At  that  time  he  was  most  en- 
thusiastic about  Van  Dyck,  who  was  well  represented 
in  the  old  Pinakotek,  and  that  admiration  is  apparent 
in  many  of  his  portrait  heads  of  that  period. 

The  art  that  bore  the  stamp  of  the  painter's  own  in- 
dividuality came  later,  as  under  the  various  influences 
that  played  upon  him,  he  evolved  the  distinctive  thing 
we  call  a  Chase  manner  or  subject. 

Duveneck  still  recalls  with  vividness  the  interesting 
effects  Chase  contrived  in  his  studio  by  posing  a  model 
in  a  frame  in  the  semblance  of  some  famous  canvas  of 
the  great  masters.  Those  were  his  first  experiments  in 
the  old-master  tableaux  with  which  he  afterward  famil- 
iarized New  York. 

Chase  left  his  mark  upon  student  life  in  Munich.  It 
was  he  who  inaugurated  the  custom  of  having  a  student 
dinner  about  every  two  weeks,  when  photographs  of 
old  and  modern  masters  were  hung  upon  the  walls, 

[43] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

and  one  of  the  students  chosen  to  talk  about  the  art 
and  work  of  the  painter  or  painters  represented.  The 
American  Art  Club  in  Munich  was  the  outgrowth  of 
these  meetings.  At  one  Thanksgiving  dinner  given  by 
the  students  of  this  club,  Mark  Twain,  who  was  passing 
through  Germany  at  the  time,  was  a  guest. 

In  the  spirit  of  those  days,  indescribably  conveyed 
in  the  words  of  the  men  who  lived  through  them,  one 
is  conscious,  as  in  the  picture  of  Paris  shown  in  Du 
Maurier's  "Trilby"  of  that  free  and  beautiful  thing,  the 
joy  of  creative  youth.  Whether  successful  or  not,  the 
student  of  that  time  was  the  farthest  possible  remove 
from  the  self-conscious  posturing  type  that  we  find  so 
often  to-day  in  New  York  and  Paris.  For  that  was  before 
the  day  of  the  dilettante,  and  the  amateur  was  usually 
one  perforce  through  lack  of  gift  or  application,  rather 
than  because  his  attitude  toward  art  was  trivial  and 
insincere.  They  were  artists  in  spirit  at  least  in  those 
days,  not  actors. 

Chase  won  a  number  of  medals  during  his  years  in 
Munich,  and  his  position  as  a  brilliant  young  painter 
became  fully  established.  Before  he  left  he  was  invited 
to  become  an  instructor  at  the  academy,  an  honor  he 
deeply  appreciated  but  declined.  To  this  day  he  is  well 
known  and  honorably  remembered  in  the  Bavarian  city. 

[44] 

0 


CHAPTER  IV 
VENETIAN  DAYS 

IN  1877  Chase  went  from  Munich  to  Venice,  where 
he  spent  about  nine  months  in  company  with  Du- 
veneck  and  Twachtman.  The  three  painters  lived  to- 
gether in  the  simplest  and  most  economical  fashion. 
Indeed  their  stay  was  prolonged  to  a  greater  length 
than  they  had  originally  intended  because  they  lacked 
the  funds  necessary  for  the  act  of  departure.  But  the 
Venice  period  was  one  full  of  interest,  and  as  they  painted 
outdoors  together  the  art  of  the  associated  painters  grew 
steadily  stronger  and  more  individual. 

Mrs.  Bronson,  the  sister  of  Richard  Watson  Gilder 
who  at  that  time  was  living  with  her  family  in  Venice, 
proved  a  good  friend  to  the  young  men  and  it  was 
through  her  kind  offices  that  they  were  eventually 
helped  out  of  their  financial  embarrassment,  for  Chase 
became  very  ill  with  some  sort  of  Italian  fever.  The 
money  of  all  three  gave  out,  and  their  situation  was 
quite  desperate.  Duveneck  nursed  the  invalid  as  best 
he  could,  taking  all  the  night  duty,  for  Twachtman,  he 
still  remembers,  could  not  stay  awake,  and  at  last  Chase 
began  slowly  to  get  better. 

It  was  during  this  illness,  which  had  drawn  heavily 

[45] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT   CHASE 

upon  their  slender  resources,  that  the  men,  reduced  to 
absolute  penury,  were  obliged  to  borrow  of  a  compara- 
tive stranger.  Chase,  who  actually  needed  food,  had  asked 
for  soup.  Duveneck  went  out  under  the  spur  of  this 
necessity,  and  with  great  reluctance  asked  a  young 
Englishman  he  knew  slightly  to  lend  him  five  francs. 
The  money  was  lent  (and  subsequently  returned)  but 
the  situation  remained  desperate.  Duveneck  says  that 
they  all  acquired  a  distaste  for  beans  at  that  time,  for 
being  the  cheapest  food  obtainable,  and  fortunately 
nourishing,  they  bought  a  large  quantity  and  lived  al- 
most exclusively  upon  beans  for  a  long  period.  Finally 
Chase  recovered,  although  his  friends  had  despaired  of 
his  life,  and  he  had,  indeed,  come  very  near  the  border- 
land. At  the  eleventh  hour  nelp  came — Mrs.  Bronson 
secured  a  portrait  order  for  Duveneck. 

Duveneck  was  high  up  on  a  ladder  in  one  of  the  gal- 
leries making  a  copy  when  a  card  was  brought  to  him. 
He  was  never  more  excited  in  his  life,  he  says,  than  when, 
after  having  reluctantly  descended  the  ladder,  he  found 
that  his  caller  had  come  to  order  a  portrait.  He  was 
still  further  overcome  at  the  excellent  price  offered, 
"for  at  that  moment,"  said  Duveneck,  "if  he  had  but 
known  it,  he  could  have  had  it  for  five  dollars ! " 

Chase's  collecting  impulse  received  a  tremendous  im- 

[46] 


VENETIAN  DAYS 

petus  in  Venice,  for  there  beautiful  old  things  were  to 
be  had  for  the  traditional  song.  Mr.  Macy,  who  was 
also  in  Venice  at  the  time,  tells  how  the  dealers  would 
take  the  painters  into  a  room  literally  stacked  with  old 
pictures  and  tell  them  they  could  have  anything  in  it 
for  five  dollars.  Needless  to  state,  despite  the  condition 
of  his  finances,  Chase  availed  himself  of  these  oppor- 
tunities to  acquire  a  number  of  valuable  things,  includ- 
ing pictures,  among  them  some  still-life  studies,  as  well 
as  brasses,  old  furniture  and  picture-frames.  Those  which 
he  could  not  pay  for  he  left  behind  to  be  aftetward 
sent  to  America. 

Chase's  well-known  picture  The  Fish-Market  was 
painted  during  his  stay  in  Venice,  also  The  Antiquary's 
Shop,  subjects  which,  strong  in  the  lure  of  obvious  pic- 
turesqueness,  lay  at  his  very  door.  In  them,  however, 
there  is  no  attempt  to  paint  light  or  atmosphere.  That 
lesson  Chase  learned  later  from  the  French  and  Dutch 
masters.  The  Antiquary's  Shop  is  an  interesting  study  in 
tone,  a  rich  and  harmonious  color  composition,  that  is 
all.  Chase  also  did  a  number  of  still-life  studies  at  this 
time.  While  these  were  all  much  darker  than  his  later 
still-life  painting,  yet  they  are  beautiful  examples  of 
tone  painting,  and  not  by  any  means  monochromic 
studies,  for  he  has  made  varied  and  interesting  use 

[47] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

of  such  notes  of  strong  color  as  are  furnished  by  a  red 
lobster  and  rich-hued  bits  of  drapery.  The  fine  still- 
life  containing  his  monkey  Jocko  was  painted  at  this 
period,  as  it  was  at  this  time  that  in  picturesque  fashion 
he  acquired  Jocko. 

Wandering  one  day  along  the  water-front  Chase 
paused  to  watch  a  paintable  group  of  Spanish  sailors, 
and  as  he  did  so  he  noticed  with  them  a  forlorn  little 
monkey.  His  quick  sympathy  aroused  by  the  appear- 
ance of  the  little  animal,  which  looked  particularly 
desolate  in  its  gay  garments,  he  entered  into  negotia- 
tions with  the  sailors,  with  the  result  that  the  monkey 
changed  owners.  The  Spaniards,  thinking  the  foreigner 
did  not  realize  that  he  was  entitled  also  to  Jocko's  ward- 
robe, ran  shrieking  after  him,  holding  up  the  diminutive 
garments.  It  was  almost  impossible  to  persuade  them 
that  their  customer  did  not  want  them.  They  plainly 
considered  him  a  reckless  spendthrift. 

Chase  took  the  monkey  back  to  his  studio,  arranged 
an  Italian  canopied  bed  for  his  new  pet  and  fed  it  gen- 
erously. But  it  seemed  to  him  that  Jocko  moped.  Think- 
ing that  perhaps  the  monkey  craved  simian  companion- 
ship, he  fared  forth  and  purchased  another  extremely 
small  monkey  named  Jim  as  a  companion  for  Jocko, 
but  the  ungrateful  Jocko  turned  his  back  upon  the  new 

[481 


VENETIAN  DAYS 

arrival.  At  last  Chase,  fearing  that  Jocko  might  hurt 
the  smaller  animal,  decided  to  remove  the  undesired 
Jim,  but  when  he  attempted  to  carry  Jim  away  Jocko 
intervened  suddenly  and  violently,  insisting,  so  to  speak, 
that  Jim  remain.  After  this  the  two  monkeys  became 
great  friends.  One  day  Chase  returned  to  the  studio  to 
find  them  both  missing.  Going  out  to  search  for  them 
he  was  met  by  an  irate  signora,  who  complained  that  the 
monkeys  of  the  Americano  were  in  her  fig-tree  stealing 
her  ripe  figs.  Arriving  at  the  spot,  Chase  discovered  the 
devoted  Jocko  at  the  top  of  the  tree  swiftly  gathering 
figs  and  handing  them  over  to  Jim. 

Another  day  Chase  came  home  to  find  Jocko  gone. 
While  walking  about  the  narrow  streets  by  the  side 
canals  looking  for  him  he  noticed  a  gesticulating  crowd 
gathered  at  the  corner  of  the  Accademia  di  Belle  Arti 
with  faces  turned  upward.  Stopping  to  discover  the  cause 
of  the  excitement,  Chase  looked  up  also,  and  there,  lightly 
attached  to  the  topmost  pinnacle  of  the  lightning-rod, 
he  saw  an  undisturbed  monkey  at  ease,  apparently  en- 
joying the  view.  For  some  reason  this  state  of  affairs 
seemed  to  be  contrary  to  law  and  order,  for  two  carabi- 
nieri  were  wildly  demanding  that  the  monkey  be  taken 
down  at  once.  When  the  officials  found  out  that  the 
Americano  was  Jocko's  owner  they  became  quite  vio- 

[49] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

lently  insistent.  "Take  him  down.  Subito,  subito!  It  is 
not  possible  for  him  to  remain  there.  You  must  take  him 
down."  Just  how  the  details  of  Jock's  descent  were  to 
be  accomplished  was  not  clear. 

Jocko,  however,  survived  this  and  many  other  ad- 
ventures; but  an  experimental  mood  that  seized  upon 
him  once  in  his  master's  absence  proved  fatal.  It  hap- 
pened while  Chase  was  away  from  Venice  on  a  trip.  In 
exploring  the  gondolier's  pocket  Jocko  came  upon  a 
handful  of  matches  which  he  unwisely  consumed  but 
failed  to  digest.  Combustion  of  a  sort  must  have  occurred 
within,  and  Jocko  died.  Chase's  friends,  much  disturbed 
that  this  tragedy  should  have  occurred  while  he  was 
away,  felt  that  all  possible  attention  must  be  bestowed 
upon  Jocko's  last  rites.  Hunting  among  the  painter's 
belongings,  they  took  a  piece  of  brocade  that  he  espe- 
cially valued  for  Jocko's  shroud,  and  wrapping  the  dead 
monkey  in  it,  put  him  in  the  canal  and  let  the  tide  carry 
him  away.  When  Chase  returned  his  grief  for  his  lost 
pet  was  mixed  with  consternation  at  the  discovery  that 
his  devoted  friends  had  bereft  him  at  the  same  time  of 
his  Venetian  brocade.  When  he  left  Venice  to  return  to 
America  he  gave  the  bereaved  Jim  to  Mrs.  Bronson. 

While  in  Venice,  Chase  received  an  offer  from  the 
newly  founded  Art  League  in  New  York  to  teach  there. 

[50] 


VENETIAN  DAYS 

It  is  amusing  to  realize  now,  familiar  as  we  are  with 
Chase's  extraordinary  career  as  a  teacher,  that  he  had 
grave  doubts  of  his  ability  to  teach  and,  had  it  not  been 
for  Duveneck's  urging  him  to  try  it,  would  probably 
not  have  accepted  the  offer  which  had  such  important 
consequences. 

Long  before  he  had  made  plans  for  returning  to 
America  the  dream  of  having  a  beautiful  studio  pos- 
sessed him,  for  once,  while  buying  something  in  Venice 
with  Macy  he  said  to  his  friend:  "I  intend  to  have  the 
finest  studio  in  New  York." 

Duveneck's  portrait  money  carried  the  three  painters 
back  to  Munich  where  Chase  gathered  together  his 
belongings.  Before  he  left,  his  fellow  painters,  inspired 
by  Duveneck,  planned  a  farewell  celebration  for  him 
at  Polling,  a  little  Bavarian  town  where  the  students 
often  went  to  paint  and  where  Chase  had  once  organized 
a  Fourth  of  July  celebration. 

At  Polling  the  students  worked  in  a  deserted  monas- 
tery for  which  they  paid  a  small  rent,  using  the  monks' 
cells  for  studios  and  utilizing  the  picturesquely  cos- 
tumed peasants  for  models.  The  lower  part  of  the  mon- 
astery had  been  turned  into  a  cattle-stable,  and  of  the 
material  it  offered  they  also  availed  themselves,  paint- 
ing the  cattle  and  sheep.  It  was  there  that  Walter  Shir- 

[51] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

law  painted  his  Sheep  Shearing,  a  canvas  that  attracted 
considerable  attention  at  the  time. 

In  those  days  Polling  lay  beyond  the  terminal  of  the 
railway,  and  certain  red  tape  had  to  be  gone  through 
with  in  arranging  this  festivity  which  was  designed  and 
successfully  carried  out  as  a  surprise  to  Chase.  Permis- 
sion had  to  be  obtained  from  the  Mayor  of  Weilheim, 
the  town  to  be  passed  through  before  the  merrymakers 
could  proceed  on  their  way. 

The  students  had  built  a  sort  of  throne  covered  with 
studio  stuffs,  draperies,  rugs,  skins,  and  brass  plates  and 
placed  it  on  an  ox-cart.  In  order  not  to  be  too  flatteringly 
saccharine,  a  large  caricature  of  Chase  made  by  one  of 
his  friends  was  placed  above  the  seat  he  was  to  occupy. 
The  white  Bavarian  oxen  harnessed  with  the  quaint 
picturesque  brass  bands  across  their  foreheads  were 
decorated  with  garlands,  as  they  would  have  been  for 
a  peasant  wedding. 

When  Chase  descended  from  the  train  at  Weilheim 
whither  he  had  been  lured  upon  some  pretext,  he  was 
overwhelmed  when  he  found  himself  set  upon  by  a 
shrieking  mob  of  friends  and  lifted  to  the  throne,  and 
thus  seated  aloft  (under  the  caricature  of  himself)  he 
was  slowly  drawn  along  the  road  to  Polling  amidst  the 
acclamations  of  the  populace — Bavarian  peasants  in 

[52] 


VENETIAN  DAYS 

costume — in  a  manner  truly  operatic.  "As  luck  would 
have  it,"  said  Mr.  Duveneck,  enjoying  with  the  unc- 
tion of  a  boy  the  memory  of  that  little  joke,  "Chase 
had  worn  the  very  hat  represented  in  the  caricature, 
which  was  so  good  that  it  was  recognized  all  along 
the  way ! " 

On  the  back  of  the  cart  was  a  keg  of  beer  from  which 
the  guest  of  honor  as  well  as  his  entertainers  refreshed 
themselves.  To  the  accompaniment  of  cattle  horns,  Ty- 
rolese  mountain  horns,  and  copper  kitchen-ware  beaten 
with  a  spoon,  a  veritable  pandemonium,  they  proceeded 
on  their  way.  When  they  entered  the  little  town  the 
men  took  the  oxen  from  the  traces  and  drew  the  cart 
themselves  up  to  the  door  of  the  inn.  Here  Chase  was 
wafted  to  earth  and  into  the  low  panelled  tap-room, 
where  the  festivities  continued  until  a  late  hour.  A  thor- 
oughly decorous  account  of  this  frankly  uproarious  oc- 
casion, written  by  one  of  the  participators  and  printed 
in  an  American  paper  at  the  time,  described  the  night 
as  "pleasantly  spent  in  mirth  and  song."  A  piece  of 
parchment  covered  with  seals,  coins,  and  ribbons  con- 
taining the  names  of  the  men  who  were  present  at  that 
celebration  hung  for  many  years  in  the  Tenth  Street 
studio. 

[53] 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  ARTISTIC  AWAKENING  IN  NEW  YORK 

WHEN  Chase  returned  to  America  in  1878,  the 
hour  had  struck  for  the  passing  of  the  old,  and 
the  coming  of  the  new  art.  The  canvases  of  the  younger 
men  exhibited  at  the  academy,  which  would  have  been 
ignored  and  laughed  at  in  the  zenith  of  the  Hudson  River 
School,  came  now  at  the  psychological  moment  when 
the  time  was  ripe  for  their  recognition  and  influence. 

The  art  exhibition  of  the  Philadelphia  Centennial  in 
1876,  had  given  American  artists  a  new  outlook.  The 
Barbizon  painters  were  quite  generally  known  now,  al- 
though America  had  not  yet  heard  the  name  of  Manet. 
The  young  men  who  had  been  sending  their  pictures 
home  to  the  academy  were  beginning  to  return  from 
Paris  and  Munich;  prosperity  followed  the  Civil  War, 
and  change  was  in  the  air. 

Chase's  fame,  as  has  been  said,  had  preceded  him. 
His  Jester  exhibited  at  the  Centennial  had  been  widely 
commented  upon;  The  Broken  Jug,  exhibited  in  1877, 
was  bought  by  a  National  Academician,  Doctor  Charles 
Miller,  who  still  owns  it;  and  in  1878,  shortly  before  his 
return,  Ready  for  the  Ride  was  exhibited  at  the  academy 
and  created  a  sensation.  The  preceding  year  the  So- 

[54] 


READY  FOR  THE  RIDE. 

Exhibited  at  the  National  Academy  in  1878  just  before  Chase's  return  to  America  from  Munich. 
Property  of  the  Union  League  Club. 


ARTISTIC  AWAKENING  IN  NEW  YORK 

ciety  of  American  Artists,  called  at  first  the  American 
Art  Association,  had  been  organized,  the  first  meeting 
taking  place  at  the  home  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Richard  Wat- 
son Gilder  in  their  famous  East  Fifteenth  Street  house. 
The  Art  Students'  League  was  then  in  Fourteenth  Street. 
The  Metropolitan  Museum  had  just  moved  into  its  new 
quarters  on  the  edge  of  Central  Park;  in  short,  the  new 
life  had  begun. 

But  New  York  itself  had  not  greatly  changed.  It  went 
its  placid  way  unmoved.  The  presence  of  the  young 
American  painter  in  a  Munich  student's  hat,  accom- 
panied by  a  picturesque  hound  or  two,  did  not  cause 
much  comment  on  lower  Fifth  Avenue.  Yet  Chase  was 
a  natural  creator  of  bizarre  effects.  He  provided  New 
York  with  spectacles  that  would  have  set  much  journal- 
istic talk  and  advertising  in  motion  in  these  days.  When 
his  colored  servant,  Daniel,  wearing  a  red  fez,  stood 
outside  the  entrance  of  the  Tenth  Street  Studio,  while 
the  Russian  hound,  a  conspicuous  exotic  in  the  seven- 
ties, gambolled  about  the  street,  and  two  brilliant-hued 
macaws  and  a  white  cockatoo  perched  upon  the  iron 
railing  of  the  building,  the  resulting  effect  was  certainly 
not  similar  to  that  of  the  rest  of  the  quiet  street,  yet  it 
was  .passed  over  with  an  indulgent  smile  by  the  passer- 
by of  that  era. 

[55] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

On  the  steamer  returning  to  America,  Chase  dis- 
covered that  Carroll  Beckwith,  whom  he  had  met  in 
Munich,  was  also  a  passenger.  That  meeting  was  the  be- 
ginning of  their  long  friendship.  Shirlaw  and  Dielman  had 
already  returned  from  Munich,  and  the  men  resumed 
their  old  companionship  in  New  York. 

Chase  accomplished  his  dream  when  shortly  after 
his  arrival  in  America  he  acquired  his  Tenth  Street 
Studio.  This  building,  now  so  associated  with  his  name, 
was  built  as  early  as  1857,  and  was  the  first  real  studio 
building  in  New  York.  Chase  at  first  occupied  a  small 
studio,  but  later  managed  to  secure  a  large  room  which 
had  previously  been  used  for  exhibition  purposes.  This 
latter  was  the  room  known  to  fame  as  Chase's  Tenth 
Street  Studio,  although  he  retained  the  smaller  studio 
and  had  an  upper  room  as  well.  Doctor  Charles  Miller, 
M.A.,  rhapsodically  describes  Chase's  appearance  upon 
the  scene:  "Mr.  Chase  upon  returning  to  New  York 
virtually  took  the  town  by  storm,  capturing  its  chief 
artistic  citadel,  and  the  exhibition  gallery  of  the  Tenth 
Street  Studio  building  became  the  sanctum  sanctorum 
of  the  aesthetic  fraternity,  affording  midst  painting, 
statuary,  music,  flowers,  and  flamingoes,  etc.,  symposia 
most  unique  and  felicitous,  never  to  be  forgotten  by 
charmed  participants,  notably  a  banquet  with  F.  Hop- 

[56] 


ARTISTIC  AWAKENING  IN  NEW  YORK 

kinson  Smith  as  toastmaster,  animated  by  the  sparkling 
wit  of  Homer  Martin,  Beckwith,  Reinhart,  Shirlaw, 
Minor,  and  Sartain." 

The  flamingo,  be  it  explained,  was  stuffed  and  not  a 
part  of  the  studio  aviary. 

Chase  was  also  a  member  of  the  Art  Club,  of  which 
Doctor  Miller  was  president.  Beckwith,  Shirlaw,  Dielman, 
Saint  Gaudens,  Frank  Millet,  Reinhart,  F.  S.  Church, 
and  Swain  Gifford  were  among  its  members.  It  met  at 
The  Studio,  a  chop-house  on  Sixth  Avenue,  where  many 
of  the  artists  dined  quite  regularly.  It  would  have  been 
interesting  to  be  an  eavesdropper  at  that  dinner-table. 
Doctor  Miller  still  has  a  portfolio  of  interesting  pencil- 
drawings,  both  portraits  and  caricatures,  that  the  men 
made  of  each  other  at  these  meetings  of  the  Art  Club. 
During  its  five  years  of  existence  the  club  held  exhibi- 
tions of  work  by  its  members,  and  collected  funds  to 
send  an  exhibit  of  American  painters  to  the  Interna- 
tional Exhibition  at  Munich  in  1883,  an  enterprise  in 
which  Chase  was  especially  interested,  and  which  was 
important  because  it  was  the  first  time  that  American 
painters  had  been  collectively  represented  in  an  inter- 
national exhibition. 

Walter  Palmer,  who  met  Chase  soon  after  his  arrival 
in  New  York,  and  who  was  a  neighbor  of  his  in  the  Tenth 

[57] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

Street  building,  remembers  another  dining-place  where 
art  was  discussed  nightly — a  little  restaurant  in  the  base- 
ment at  Broadway  and  Eighteenth  Street,  where  he, 
Chase,  Shirlaw,  and  Church  used  to  dine  together.  For 
these  revolutionary  young  painters  literally  lived  art 
in  those  days.  It  may  well  be  that  in  some  further  future 
the  story  of  that  time  will  take  on  the  atmosphere  of  a 
legend. 

Among  Chase's  first  pupils  at  The  League  were  Ir- 
ving Wiles,  Edward  A.  Bell  and  Edith  Prellwitz.  A  year 
or  two  later,  Mrs.  Sherwood  (then  Rosina  Emmett) 
and  Mrs.  Keith  (then  Dora  Wheeler)  were  private  pupils 
in  the  Tenth  Street  Studio.  Chase  often  used  to  take  his 
dogs  to  The  League — a  pleasant  little  run  from  Tenth 
Street — where  they  created  something  of  a  sensation 
in  the  classroom. 

Irving  Wiles  distinctly  remembers  his  first  criticism, 
which  is  interesting  because  it  is  an  example  of  the 
thing  Chase  meant  to  American  students  at  that  time. 
Trained  in  the  careful  methods  of  the  academic  art 
school  of  that  period,  Wiles  said  he  looked  with  scorn 
that  first  day  upon  the  charcoal-drawings  of  the  students 
about  him.  To  his  eye  they  seemed  rough  and  careless, 
so  he  took  out  his  little  hard  crayon,  whittled  it  to  the 
finest  possible  point,  and  began  to  show  what  careful 

[58] 


ARTISTIC  AWAKENING  IN  NEW  YORK 

and  accurate  work  he  could  do.  What  was  his  surprise, 
when  Chase  came  along  to  criticise,  to  see  him  look 
with  disapproval  upon  his  work.  "No,  that  isn't  the 
idea,"  said  Chase.  "Give  me  your  charcoal.  Something 
more  like  this,"  and  he  proceeded  to  draw,  only  with  in- 
finitely more  skill,  in  the  rough  and  unfinished  manner 
of  his  pupils.  After  this  Wiles  said  he  did  not  let  his 
master  see  any  more  of  his  work  until  he  had  mastered 
the  trick.  But  at  his  next  criticism  he  believes  that 
Chase  did  not  recognize  him  as  the  careful  manipulator 
of  the  pointed  crayon. 

Chase  became  a  member  of  the  new  Society  of  Amer- 
ican Artists,  and  soon  made  himself  so  much  felt  in  the 
organization  that  little  more  than  a  year  after  his  return 
home  he  was  elected  its  president. 

Those  were  days  of  organization  and  new  movements. 
With  the  Art  League  and  the  Society  of  American  Ar- 
tists in  operation,  and  young  artists  returning  in  in- 
creasing numbers  from  Europe,  more  studios  were  re- 
quired, models  were  in  demand  and  not  to  be  had  for 
the  asking,  for  models  were  an  art  property  not  greatly 
needed  in  the  preceding  period.  The  first  and  for  a  long 
time  the  only  model  in  New  York  was  one  Henrietta, 
a  Jewish  woman  who  lived  to  be  very  old,  and  was  for 
many  years  a  well-known  figure  in  the  studios.  With  the 

[59] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

organization  of  plans  to  procure  models,  orphan  asylums 
and  homes  for  old  ladies  and  old  men  were  scoured,  also 
the  tenement  sections  in  which  the  Italian  immigrants 
were  settling. 

The  Sherwood  Studios  were  built  about  a  year  later 
by  Carroll  Beckwith's  uncle,  on  land  that  had  depre- 
ciated in  value  because  of  the  newly  erected  elevated 
road,  an  enterprise  suggested  by  Beckwith,  who  was 
unable  to  find  a  suitable  studio.  But  in  spite  of  the  erec- 
tion of  the  Sherwood,  it  was  a  long  time  before  Fifty- 
seventh  Street  became  an  actual  art  centre.  For  many 
years  after  that  the  life  in  the  studios  was  still  below 
Twenty-third  Street. 

In  many  cases  photograph-galleries  had  been  taken 
over  by  the  artists,  and  all  along  Broadway,  from  Prince 
Street  up  to  Twenty-third,  many  an  old  building  had 
an  artist  or  two  housed  in  its  garret.  The  old  Vienna 
bakery  building,  next  to  Grace  Church,  on  Broadway, 
was  one  that  remained  dedicated  to  this  use  for  many 
years.  Some  of  the  cheap  flats  in  the  neighborhood  of 
South  Washington  Square  were  also  used  by  artists 
then  as  they  were  for  many  years  afterward.  Thomas 
Janvier's  amusing  "Color  Studies,"  a  collection  of  stories 
of  the  artists'  colony  of  that  time  in  the  region  south 
and  west  of  Washington  Square  known  as  Greenwich 

[60] 


ARTISTIC  AWAKENING  IN  NEW  YORK 

Village,  give  an  interesting  picture  of  the  period  despite 
their  invariable  fairy-tale  endings. 

It  was  in  every  sense  a  transition  period.  The  dusty 
art  of  the  past  decades  was  crumbling.  The  old  aca- 
demicians used  to  meet  at  Martinelli's,  a  little  Italian 
restaurant  on  Third  Avenue  near  Tenth  Street,  where 
they  exchanged  reminiscences  of  their  European  travels. 
Third  Avenue  was  a  much  less  squalid  neighborhood 
then,  a  place  of  junk-shops  and  dime  museums;  a  few 
Italians  had  now  added  themselves  to  the  Irish  and 
German  residents  of  the  neighborhood,  but  English 
was  still  the  language  of  the  Bowery. 

The  academicians  of  those  days  seemed  rather  dry 
and  conventional  beings  to  the  revolutionary  younger 
men.  Some  of  them  were  sympathetic  with  the  new 
ideas,  but  the  majority  had  little  or  no  understanding 
of  the  thing  that  is  the  very  life  principle  of  art.  Their 
attitude  toward  it  was  gentlemanly  and  scholarly. 
They  had  gentlemanly,  rather  dull  dinners  at  the  time 
of  the  annual  exhibitions,  and  upon  occasion  something 
that  they  called  "a  spread,"  in  which  beer  was  the  wildest 
form  of  dissipation.  They  seemed  to  have  enjoyed  them- 
selves very  much  in  a  correct  and  gentlemanly  fashion 
without  the  faintest  suspicion  that  they  were  living  the 
vie  de  Boheme.  They  belonged  to  a  moribund  organiza- 

[61] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

tion  called  the  Palette  Club.  With  the  younger  men 
who  met  at  the  Art  Club  or  in  each  other's  studios  the 
talk  was  nonsensical  or  practical  and  constructive, 
rather  than  reminiscent.  Their  dreams  became  our 
actualities. 

For  recognition  outside  their  own  circle  did  not  come 
at  once.  Chase  was  a  great  deal  talked  about,  but  the 
critics — so-called — of  that  period  dealt  severely  with 
his  work.  Accustomed  to  photographic  accuracy  and 
prettiness,  they  of  course  had  no  understanding  of  the 
art  of  suggestion.  Their  eyes  were  filled  with  the  dry 
dust  of  the  Victorian  School,  and  could  not  see  the  new 
beauty  before  their  eyes.  Doubtless  it  was  because  of 
that  long  conflict  with  Philistinism  that  as  long  as  he 
lived  Chase  never  expected  any  one  but  the  artist  to 
understand  art.  He  never  entirely  realized  that  even 
the  layman's  standards  have  changed  with  the  years, 
and  that  many  people  who  know  nothing  of  the  technical 
side  of  painting  have  learned  that  Ruskin  was  a  mis- 
leading light. 

If  the  kind  of  Bohemianism  now  characteristic  of 
certain  art  circles  happily  did  not  exist  in  those  days  of 
the  American  Renaissance,  a  species  of  artistic  indigence 
prevailed  that  is  unknown  now.  For  although  New  York 
is  filled  to  overflowing  with  art  students  to-day,  many 
of  them  are  the  children  of  foreigners  whose  fortunes 

[62] 


CHASE  DRESSED  IX  VAX  DYCK  COSTUME  FOR  A  MASQUERADE  BALL,  IX  THE 
EARLY  EIGHTIES. 


ARTISTIC  AWAKENING  IN  NEW  YORK 

have  prospered  in  the  New  World,  and  who  are  able  to 
provide  comfortably  for  their  sons  and  daughters  through 
their  student  days  and  those  of  their  novitiate.  But 
such  was  not  the  case  in  the  day  of  the  "real  American" 
artist.  Many  of  them  were  gentlemen's  sons,  but  from 
whatever  environment,  their  parents  were  usually  people 
of  moderate  means.  The  few  men  of  humble  foreign 
parentage  among  them  came  from  poor  homes,  for  in 
those  days  hand  labor  was  not  well  paid  as  it  is  to-day 
so  that  from  whatever  class,  the  majority  of  the  painters 
of  that  period  had  bitter  struggles  with  real  poverty. 
With  a  superb  disregard  of  practicality,  however,  they 
lived  on  nothing  a  week,  paying  the  landlord,  the  butcher, 
and  the  tailor  with  pictures.  Restaurants  and  boarding- 
house  walls  were  extensively  decorated  in  exchange  for 
meals.  There  are  tales  surviving  from  those  days  of 
shirt-fronts  renovated  with  Chinese  white,  of  coal- 
boxes  used  as  beds,  and  a  general  condition  among  many 
of  art's  disciples  nothing  less  than  squalid. 

Their  improvidence  may  not  have  been  greater  than 
that  of  the  artist  of  any  and  all  time;  perhaps  it  was 
only  that  it  presented  a  greater  contrast  to  the  habits 
and  customs  of  that  generation,  but  the  irregularities 
of  artist  life  seem  to  have  created  an  astonishment 
in  the  breast  of  the  well-regulated  American  of  the  early 
eighties  that  they  do  not  inspire  to-day.  An  article 

[63] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

that  appeared  in  Scribner's  Magazine  at  that  period 
comments  with  consternation  upon  the  fact  that  the 
proceeds  of  an  artist's  order  were  squandered  in  advance 
on  a  banquet  of  rejoicing  before  the  work  for  which  the 
money  was  paid  was  begun. 

There  were  not  many  ways  in  those  days  for  the  poor 
artist  to  eke  out  his  income.  One  source  of  revenue  to 
the  landscape-painters  was  known  as  shanghaiing.  A 
sort  of  continuous  landscape  was  painted  on  a  long  strip 
and  cut  off  anywhere  to  make  a  picture.  The  impoverished 
painter  did  these  by  the  yard,  and  sold  them  for  twelve 
dollars  a  dozen. 

Chase's  life,  however,  was  never  conducted  along 
these  lines.  With  nothing  but  his  salary  at  The  League 
to  be  depended  upon  for  a  certain  income,  he  took  his 
large  studio,  and  there,  surrounded  by  much  beauty, 
he  started  his  artistic  career  in  America  in  the  grand 
manner.  This  scheme  of  grace  and  dignity  he  main- 
tained without  concession  to  the  last,  for  Chase  would 
not  accept  small  quarters  or  poverty.  If  he  was  a  spend- 
thrift it  was  because  he  had  so  little  sense  of  the  limita- 
tions and  comparative  uses  of  money;  and  lacking  the 
restraining  consciousness  that  comes  of  practical  realiza- 
tion of  values,  he  had  to  a  great  extent  what  he  de- 
manded of  life  until  the  end. 

[64] 


•** 


CHAPTER  VI 
NEW  FRIENDS  AND  A  PERMANENT  RELATIONSHIP 

A  DAY  or  two  after  his  arrival  in  America,  Chase, 
armed  with  an  informal  introduction  from  Shir- 
law,  went  to  call  on  F.  S.  Church,  a  painter  of  decora- 
tive panels  in  which  nymph-like  young  women  are  fan- 
tastically companioned  with  polar  bears  and  rabbits. 
Besides  being  a  man  of  original  gifts  Church  was  an 
amusing  and  delightful  companion.  The  two  men  be- 
came friends  at  once,  and  their  association  in  those  days 
of  gay  impecuniosity  was  one  colored  with  much  enter- 
taining nonsense.  In  addition  to  the  pleasant  com- 
panionship it  was  a  friendship  with  consequences,  for 
it  was  Church  who  introduced  Chase  to  his  wife,  at 
that  time  a  very  young  girl,  and  Church  was  afterward 
the  godfather  of  his  first  child. 

One  of  the  professional  enterprises  in  which  the  two 
painters  were  associated  was  the  organization  of  a  series 
of  exhibitions  at  the  Art  League,  primarily  for  the  bene- 
fit of  the  students.  Even  that  simple  move  was  initiatory, 
as  before  the  Society  of  American  Artists  came  into 
existence  the  yearly  exhibits  of  the  National  Academy 
and  the  Water-Color  Society  were  practically  the  only 
exhibitions  of  the  year. 

[65] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

Simpler  than  the  life  of  the  present  generation,  one 
wonders  if  the  young  artists  of  the  eighties  did  not  ex- 
perience more  real  pleasure  in  their  comparatively  meagre 
entertainments  than  is  found  in  the  more  sophisticated 
diversions  of  to-day.  "For  there  were  not,"  Church  says 
in  recalling  it,  "so  many  things  to  do  in  those  days.  We 
used  to  walk  along  the  Bowery.  Sometimes  we  went  into 
the  dime  museums,  which  were  comparatively  dignified^ 
institutions  then.  Chase  was  the  first  to  call  my  attention 
to  the  fine  old  ironwork  about  the  steps  and  entrances  of 
the  old  houses." 

Frequently,  of  course,  Chase  made  purchases.  An 
affectionate  term  of  opprobrium  which  Church  be- 
stowed upon  him  as  a  result  of  his  collecting  proclivities 
was  "Tomato-Can  Collector."  When  the  men  could 
afford  it  they  went  to  Tony  Pastor's  or  to  the  theatre. 
They  had  a  number  of  convivial  meeting-places,  the 
Morton  House  and  a  German  place  below  Fifteenth 
Street  on  Broadway,  which  was  in  fact  a  saloon,  but  a 
resort  having  a  different  sort  of  patronage  from  the 
present-day  New  York  barroom.  Church's  studio  was 
at  Thirteenth  Street  and  Broadway  only  a  few  blocks 
away;  and  when  they  were  not  dining  at  The  Studio  or 
the  basement  restaurant  referred  to  by  Walter  Palmer, 
the  two  men  usually  took  their  evening  meal  together. 

[66] 


NEW  FRIENDS 

It  was  at  this  Fifteenth  Street  place  that  Church  re- 
marked solemnly  to  Chase  one  night,  "those  two  men 
over  there  must  be  going  to  the  devil  fast,  we  see  them 
here  every  time  we  come,"  a  remark  Chase  was  fond  of 
quoting. 

Church  who  for  economical  reasons  wanted  to  break 
himself  of  smoking,  said  to  Chase  one  day:  "I'll  give 
you  twenty-five  dollars  the  first  time  you  catch  me 
smoking  a  cigar."  On  their  way  to  dinner  that  night, 
Church  inquired:  "How  much  will  I  have  to  pay  you  if 
I  smoke  a  cigarette?"  "Fifty  cents,"  Chase  humanely 
decided. 

Church  smoked  his  cigarette  and  gave  Chase  his  half- 
dollar.  It  was  a  cold,  stormy  night.  After  dinner  as  they 
walked  up  Broadway  to  the  theatre  a  small,  wretched- 
looking  newsboy  came  up  begging  them  to  buy  a  paper. 
The  sympathetic  Chase  gave  Church's  half-dollar  to  the 
little  Italian,  who  promptly  threw  his  entire  bundle  of 
papers  into  the  gutter  and  ran  off.  In  such  fashion  as 
this  did  the  artistic  temperament  deal  with  things. 

The  young  painters  lived  a  happy,  improvident  life 
together,  borrowing  and  lending,  apparently  without 
keeping  very  strict  accounts,  a  genuine  communism  of 
art  and  youth.  There  is  a  story  of  Chase's  meeting 
Bleecker  Mitchell,  a  brother  artist,  on  the  street  one 

[67] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

day.  Chase  was  in  a  hurry  and  walking  quickly.  Mitchell 
tried  to  stop  him.  "Oh,  Chase,  Chase,  wait  a  minute!" 
"What  is  it?"  Chase  called  back.  "About  that  fifteen 
dollars,"  Mitchell  called  after  him.  "All  right,  all  right," 
Chase  replied  on  the  wing,  "I'll  give  it  to  you  next  week." 
"No,  no!"  shrieked  Mitchell  across  the  widening  space, 
"/  owe  it  to  you!" 

Speaking  of  the  value  and  inspiration  of  Chase's 
criticism,  Church  recalled  the  occasion  when  Chase  en- 
tered his  studio  as  he  was  about  finishing  his  etching 
called  Silence.  Coming  up  beside  him,  Chase  gave  a 
quick  glance  at  his  work,  then  said:  "Stop  right  there." 
Church  of  course  accepted  the  suggestion.  "And  it 
was,"  he  added  with  appreciation,  "the  best  etching 
I  ever  did." 

Through  an  elderly  Austrian  baron,  a  friend  of  Mrs. 
Chase's  father,  who  did  heraldic  illuminating  and  had 
a  room  in  the  same  building,  Church  had  met  the  Gerson 
family.  The  next  link  in  the  chain  was  Church's  intro- 
duction of  Chase  to  the  Gerson  household. 

Mr.  Gerson,  himself  a  delightful  and  witty  person 
with  much  esprit,  had  three  attractive  daughters  and 
a  musically  talented  son.  To  his  home  came  many  of 
the  young  artists  of  the  day,  among  them  Walter  Shir- 
law,  Frederick  Dielman,  F.  S.  Church,  Napoleon  Sarony, 

[68] 


NEW   FRIENDS 

and  James  Kelly,  and  a  little  later  Sarah  Cowell  Le- 
Moyne  and  Robert  Blum;  also  that  singular  and  now 
almost  forgotten  product  of  the  Western  mountains, 
Joaquin  Miller.  Mr.  Gerson  was  intelligently  interested 
in  art  in  general,  and  subsequently  his  son-in-law's  art 
in  particular.  He  was  a  native  of  Germany,  although  not 
racially  Teutonic,  and  his  wife,  an  American  on  the 
maternal  side,  had  an  interesting  French  strain  in  her 
blood,  for  her  grandfather,  Doctor  Paul  Barbe  Bremond, 
was  court  physician  to  Napoleon  I,  and  a  cousin  of  the 
Empress  Josephine.  At  the  time  that  Chase  met  the 
Gersons,  the  eldest  daughter,  a  young  girl  of  seventeen 
or  eighteen,  had  been  left  head  of  the  family  by  her 
mother's  death. 

When  the  Gerson  girls  saw  Chase's  picture  Ready  for 
the  Ride,  at  the  National  Academy,  they  felt  a  great 
desire  to  meet  the  talented  young  painter.  Not  having 
seen  the  young  women,  however,  Chase  at  first  declined 
the  invitations  of  his  brother  artists  to  accompany  them 
to  the  Gerson  home.  Finally,  one  evening  he  went,  and 
there  saw  for  the  first  time  his  future  wife,  a  small,  dark, 
picturesque  young  girl  who  looked  like  a  child.  That 
evening,  before  he  left,  he  asked  the  eldest  sister  if  Miss 
Alice  (known  to  her  family  and  intimates  as  "Toady") 
would  pose  for  him. 

[69] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

From  the  first,  William  Chase  was  a  hero  to  young 
Alice  Gerson.  A  sculptor  friend  of  those  days  said:  "When 
she  was  a  little  girl  she  sat  on  a  stool  beside  him  and  held 
his  finger.  When  she  was  older  she  sat  with  her  arm  around 
his  dog." 

Mrs.  Chase  denies  the  authenticity  of  the  first  pic- 
ture, although  she  admits  a  sentiment  concerning  the 
dog  which  Chase  left  with  her  during  one  of  his  summer 
absences  in  Europe. 

Both  of  the  paintable  younger  girls  had  often  posed 
for  Church,  who  has  made  such  fanciful  and  charming 
use  of  girls  and  children  in  his  pictures.  Indeed  both 
Alice  and  Virginia  Gerson,  and  especially  Alice,  fre- 
quently did  this  service  for  the  painters  who  were  their 
friends,  sometimes  because  the  men  were  too  "hard  up" 
to  pay  for  a  professional  model,  sometimes  because  the 
artist  felt  that  no  one  else  could  serve  his  purpose  so  well. 

The  painters  spent  many  pleasant  evenings  at  the 
Gerson  home.  While  Mr.  Gerson  and  the  baron  played 
cards  in  one  room,  the  younger  people  sat  together 
amusing  themselves  in  various  spontaneous  ways  in 
another.  The  men  made  silhouettes  of  each  other  and 
of  the  girls,  sometimes  they  drew  fantastic  pictures  in 
their  cigar  ashes  on  a  sheet  of  paper.  Sometimes  they 
went  in  groups  to  the  theatre  together.  Often  Church, 

[70] 


NEW  FRIENDS 

Chase,  and  the  "Gerson  girls"  went  on  passes  that  had 
been  presented  to  the  popular  Church.  Church's  letters 
announcing  the  presentation  or  purchase  of  seats  were 
invariably  illustrated.  Upon  one  occasion,  when  Miss 
Gerson  was  away  in  the  summer  Church  wrote  to  her 
telling  of  an  excursion  they  had  made  to  a  neighboring 
ice-cream  saloon.  This  letter,  written  from  the  Gersons' 
house,  shows  Alice  and  Virginia  Gerson  and  the  writer 
adorned  with  wings,  but  Chase,  since  it  was  Church's 
hypothesis  that  he  was  a  hated  rival,  is  represented 
with  hoofs  and  horns. 

"DEAR  Miss  MINNIE: 

"We  have  just  returned  from  the  ice-cream  saloon. 
Had  seven  dishes  apiece.  Chase  ordered  only  one  dish. 
I  got  the  others.  Wasn't  he  mean?  The  sea-lion  is  well 
and  the  young  elephant  is  still  posing.  Toady  is  grinning. 
The  weather  is  very  warm.  We  are  thinking  of  getting 
a  big  dish  of  cream  over  here,  and  all  getting  into  it  to 

keep  cool.  Good-by. 

"L.  L.  C.  FREDDY." 

The  initials  stand  for  "Long-Legged  Crane,"  Church's 
self-applied  nickname.  The  allusion  to  the  unequal  divi- 
sion of  expense,  needless  to  state,  was  made  in  that 

[71] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

vein  of  mock  abuse  which  characterized  the  remarks 
Church  and  Chase  made  to  and  about  each  other.  Both 
men  were  generous  to  the  verge  of  bankruptcy. 

Church  was  very  fond  of  young  Alice  Gerson  who 
often  posed  for  him.  In  one  of  his  letters  to  her  his  sup- 
posed jealousy  of  Chase  was  couched  in  these  terms: 
"Anyway  I  know  a  dog  that  can  lick  thunder  out  of  old 
Chase's  Fly." 

The  life  that  these  young  people  led  together  had  the 
informal  charm  of  the  artist's  life.  All  three  of  the  girls 
used  to  go  to  Chase's  studio  in  Tenth  Street,  often  taking 
their  needlework  with  them.  Sometimes  they  posed, 
sometimes  the  older  sister  or  brother  would  play  on  a 
little  organ  in  the  gallery.  Frequently,  their  father  went 
with  them.  Chase  soon  grew  to  feel  that  he  belonged 
to  the  Gerson  family.  When  he  wanted  to  buy  a  black 
silk  dress  for  his  mother,  he  went  to  Minnie  Gerson  as 
to  his  sister,  asking  her  if  as  a  great  favor  she  would 
accompany  him  to  the  shop  to  help  him  make  the  pur- 
chase. As  an  evidence  of  his  thoughtful  affection,  Miss 
Gerson  remembers  how  he  insisted  upon  purchasing 
every  smallest  detail  of  the  costume  from  the  lining  to 
the  buttons. 

There  were  many  informal  gatherings  at  the  Gersons' 
house,  and  the  painters  often  stayed  to  dinner  or  sup- 

[72] 


NEW  FRIENDS 

per.  Minnie  Gerson  remembers  Chase's  delight  in  a 
bouquet  she  had  on  the  table  one  evening,  a  combina- 
tion of  different  little  fine  flowers,  pink,  white,  blue,  and 
yellow,  in  a  blue  jar.  Chase  declared  it  was  like  the  bou- 
quets in  Alfred  Stevens's  pictures  and  begged  her  always 
to  have  one  like  it  on  the  table. 

When  Chase's  mother  and  sisters  came  on  from  the 
West  he  invited  the  Gerson  family  to  dine  with  them 
the  night  of  their  arrival  at  the  Casino  restaurant  in 
Central  Park,  where  they  used  often  to  dine  outdoors 
on  summer  evenings. 

The  sisters  recall  one  occasion  when  strolling  home 
with  Chase,  Shirlaw,  and  Church  along  the  path  bor- 
dering one  of  the  park  lakes  after  one  of  their  al  fresco 
repasts,  that  Chase,  burlesquing  a  state  of  despair  over 
some  pretended  neglect,  ran  to  the  edge  of  the  lake  as 
if  to  throw  himself  in,  and  it  being  a  combination  of 
dusk  and  nearly  moonlight  mistook  a  reflection  for  the 
solid  earth,  and  promptly  and  unexpectedly  disappeared 
beneath  the  surface  of  the  lake,  to  the  horror  of 
all. 

Presently  his  head  appeared,  and  he  soon  climbed 
up  beside  his  companions,  dripping  with  mud  and  water 
and  speechless  with  laughter.  Even  at  that  early  period 
Chase  was  fastidious  in  his  dress,  and  reckoned  some- 

173] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

thing  of  a  dandy.  He  took  his  clothes  seriously  and  was 
always  immaculate  in  appearance,  so  that  the  picture 
he  presented  seemed  funnier  to  his  companions  than  if 
one  of  the  others  had  been  the  victim.  Chase  soon  realized 
that  he  was  in  a  predicament,  for  Tenth  Street  was  at 
least  fifty  blocks  away.  At  the  Fifty-eighth  Street  station 
of  the  elevated  road  the  guard  firmly  refused  the  stream- 
ing passenger.  The  conductor  of  the  surface-car  was 
equally  unsympathetic.  It  was  early  summer  and  the 
evening  was  a  trifle  cool.  At  last  the  painter  faced  the 
fact  that  he  must  walk  home  to  Tenth  Street,  a  treat 
to  gamins  and  idlers.  His  friends,  who  had  courageously 
supported  him  in  his  futile  attempts  to  board  cars, 
abandoned  him  to  his  fate.  Virginia  Gerson  recalls  that 
in  spite  of  this  disaster  he  reappeared  at  their  house 
not  so  very  long  after  they  had  reached  home  them- 
selves, looking  as  immaculate  as  if  he  had  never  known 
contact  with  the  oozy  bottom  of  the  lake. 

When  the  Gersons  moved  to  an  old  house  in  Hacken- 
sack  for  a  year  or  two,  their  friends  faithfully  followed 
them.  Sometimes  the  girls  rowed  down  the  river  to  meet 

them,  sometimes  the  men  walked  the  two  miles  from 

i 

the  station  to  the  Gersons'  home.  The  necessity  to 
take  a  leisurely  suburban  journey  did  not  in  any  way 
interrupt  the  pleasant  companionship. 

[74] 


NEW  FRIENDS 

All  through  the  six  years  of  association  preceding  his 
marriage  Chase's  friendship  and  affection  for  the  Ger- 
sons  grew,  and  to  the  last  his  wife's  family  were  to  him 
as  his  own. 


[75] 


CHAPTER  VII 
A  TILE  CLUB  PILGRIMAGE 

SOON  after  Chase's  return  to  America  the  Tile  Club 
asked  him  to  become  a  member.  This  famous  club, 
which  lasted  for  about  eight  years,  was  originally  limited 
to  twelve  members,  and  was  composed  of  some  of  the 
most  distinguished  artists  in  America.  Augustus  Saint 
Gaudens,  Edwin  Abbey,  Elihu  Vedder,  Arthur  Quart- 
ley,  Swain  Gifford,  Alden  Weir,  Hopkinson  Smith,  C.  S. 
Reinhart,  Frank  Millet,  Frederick  Dielman,  Alfred 
Parsons,  John  Twachtman,  Stanford  White  and  Napo- 
leon Sarony  were  among  its  members.  Edward  Strahan 
and  W.  M.  Laffan  of  the  New  York  Sun  were  the  club 
scribes.  Later,  some  musicians  were  admitted. 

The  members  all  had  amusing  nicknames.  Chase  be- 
cause of  the  large  amount  of  work  that  he  turned  out 
was  called  Briareus;  Abbey,  The  Chestnut;  Hopkinson 
Smith,  The  Owl;  Saint  Gaudens,  The  Saint;  Elihu  Vedder, 
The  Pagan;  Alden  Weir,  Cadmium;  Frederick  Dielman, 
because  he  came  from  Baltimore,  was  nicknamed  The 
Terrapin. 

The  Tile  Club  was  started  in  the  studio  of  Walter 
Paris,  in  Union  Square.  Its  first  meetings  were  held 
there  or  in  Quartley's  studio.  Later  on  it  had  picturesque 

[76] 


A  TILE  CLUB  PILGRIMAGE 

quarters  in  Tenth  Street,  the  entrance  to  which,  judging 
from  descriptions,  must  have  been  almost  as  circuitous 
as  that  to  Alice's  rabbit-hole. 

The  club  was  organized  before  Chase's  return  from 
Munich.  It  had  its  origin  in  the  chance  suggestion 
of  one  of  the  men  that  the  painters  should  indulge  in 
some  form  of  the  decorative  craze  that  was  then  raging 
in  England  and  America.  The  meetings  were  held  once 
a  week.  A  different  member  furnished  the  tiles  and  the 
supper  each  night,  and  afterward  became  the  owner 
of  the  baked  and  decorated  tiles.  Pipes,  beer,  and  cheese 
usually  constituted  the  evening's  entertainment,  although 
such  delicacies  as  sardines  were  also  offered. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  Tile  Club  to  take  a  pleasure 
journey  en  masse  each  summer,  and  so  it  happened  that 
Chase  spent  part  of  his  first  summer  in  America  with 
his  fellow  club  members  on  their  famous  canal-boat  trip 
up  the  Hudson  River  and  through  the  Erie  Canal.  The 
idea  is  said  to  have  been  Hopkinson  Smith's.  The  finan- 
cial condition  of  most  of  the  club  members  was  ex- 
tremely precarious.  Several  of  them  admitted  cheerfully 
that  they  did  not  know  how  they  would  get  through 
the  summer.  Then  why,  suggested  Hopkinson  Smith, 
should  not  the  amiable  Scribner,  first  aid  to  American 
artists,  finance  their  trip?  The  literary  members  would 

[77] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

write  the  tale  of  the  pilgrimage,  the  artists  would  illus- 
trate it,  and  Scribner  would  pay  a  lump  sum  for  the 
whole  which  would  be  justly  divided. 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  Scribner  agreed  to  pay  a 
goodly  price  for  the  article,  and  the  Tile  Club  set  about 
to  plan  its  communistic  enterprise  with  much  enthu- 
siasm. After  a  diligent  search  of  the  wharves  and  the 
rejection  of  innumerable  coal-sodden  barges,  and  others 
reminiscent  of  the  occupation  of  mules,  a  suitable  boat 
was  found  and  engaged  for  three  weeks  at  the  price  of 
seven  dollars  a  week.  Its  name  was  the  John  C.  Earl. 
Chase's  famous  colored  man  Daniel,  according  to  his 
own  version  "Dannel,"  was  to  be  their  cook,  and  Chase's 
Tenth  Street  Studio  trappings  were  loaned  without  stint 
to  decorate  the  cabin  of  the  boat,  not  to  speak  of  the 
mules.  Napoleon  Sarony  also  lent  a  number  of  rugs  and 
draperies.  The  partitions  of  the  canal-boat  were  knocked 
out  so  as  to  make  one  large  salon.  Cots  converted  into 
Oriental  divans  by  day  furnished  beds  by  night.  There 
were  two  pianos  for  purposes  of  music,  professional  or 
amateur. 

When  they  were  about  to  sail,  it  was  discovered  that 
a  second  server  had  been  provided  by  Daniel,  an  amiable, 
preposterously  lazy  negro  to  whom  they  all  became 
much  attached,  and  whom  they  christened  Deuteronomy. 

[78] 


- 


A  TILE  CLUB  PILGRIMAGE 

Daniel  won  the  admiration  of  all  by  his  perfect  African 
breeding,  exhibiting  no  surprise  of  any  kind  at  his  first 
sight  of  the  richly  decorated  canal-boat,  as  if  canal- 
boats  were  always  tricked  out  with  ancient  brocades, 
Oriental  rugs,  and  pianos.  Daniel  had  been  a  slave,  and 
confided  to  Mr.  Dielman:  "Yes,  sah,  I'se  from  Balti- 
more, too.  I'se  one  of  de  Ringolds,"  thus  allying  himself 
with  the  aristocracy  of  Baltimore. 

They  sailed  away  toward  evening,  Knauth,  Luneberg, 
and  Beard,  the  musical  members,  playing  and  singing, 
banners  flying,  Japanese  lanterns  lighted,  and  Sarony's 
gorgeous  rug  which  covered  the  deck  trailing  in  the 
water.  The  "Gerson  girls"  stood  on  the  old  Tenth  Street 
pier,  and  waved  them  farewell.  When  their  lights  were 
almost  invisible  the  echo  of  their  music  came  back  over 
the  water. 

Life  on  the  canal-boat  as  it  drifted  up  the  Hudson 
was  simple  in  the  extreme.  Water  for  ablutions  was 
drawn  up  from  the  river  in  buckets.  Some  of  the  men 
sketched  while  others  watched  and  criticised.  They 
told  stories,  talked  art,  and  discussed  with  sarcasm  the 
Hudson  River  School  of  painters,  and  "The  Griffin" 
(Swain  Gifford)  is  recorded  as  saying  that  most  of  the 
backwardness  of  American  art  was  due  to  those  worthy 
Victorians,  since  they  had  chosen  material  which  because 

[79] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

of  its  grandeur  and  sublimity  was  not  suitable  for  pur- 
poses of  art:  "Therefore,"  concluded  The  Griffin,  "  sim- 
plicity has  evaded  us  all." 

As  they  progressed  on  their  journey  it  was  decided 
that  Daniel  must  have  another  assistant,  as  Deuteronomy 
was  practically  useless.  No  one  seems  to  have  suggested 
parting  with  the  amiable  drone,  but  at  Troy  one  of  the 
men  went  ashore  and  returned  with  a  slim  and  smiling 
young  man  whom  they  at  once  christened  Priam.  Priam 
not  only  proved  satisfactory  for  the  term  of  the  trip,  but 
found  art  atmosphere  so  congenial  that  he  remained  in 
employment  in  artistic  circles  for  many  years  afterward, 
serving  as  factotum  and  model.  Chase  made  a  sketch 
of  Priam  which  was  used  as  one  of  the  illustrations  for 
the  magazine  article. 

When  the  party  reached  the  Erie  Canal,  their  mules, 
decorated  with  Spanish  bridles,  their  Japanese  lanterns 
and  Oriental  hangings  created  great  excitement  among 
the  populace.  When  the  excited  children  upon  the  banks 
became  too  vociferous,  Laffan,  by  previous  arrangement 
with  the  willing  Twachtman,  ran  out  upon  the  deck 
crying,  "Run  for  your  lives,  The  Twachtman  is  loose!" 
whereat  the  invisible  Twachtman  uttered  frightful  groans, 
and  rattled  an  old  piece  of  chain  he  had  found  in  the 
hold. 

[80] 


"PRIAM,"  A  TILE  CLUB  SERVITOR. 

One  of  Chase's  few  illustrations,  made  for  the  story  of  the  club's  canal- 
boat  pilgrimage  published  in  Scribner's  Monthly,  1879. 


A  TILE  CLUB  PILGRIMAGE 

One  day,  moored  under  a  group  of  willow-trees,  some 
one  called  attention  to  the  beautiful  Japanesque  design 
made  on  their  awning  by  the  shadow  of  the  willow  leaves, 
and  straightway  Chase  and  Sarony  set  to  work  to  trace 
it  on  the  white  cloth  where  it  remained  a  testimony  to 
the  decorative  value  of  Nature.  While  Chase  and  Sarony 
were  painting,  Dielman  sketched  them  at  work.  In  such 
fashion  the  Tile  Club  passed  its  days. 

Their  meals  were  ample  but  simple,  usually  consist- 
ing, with  small  additions,  of  a  single  dish.  When  it  was 
time  for  this  piece  de  resistance  to  be  started  Hopkinson 
Smith  would  call  out,  "Put  'em  in,  Dannel,"  and  Daniel 
would  call  back:  "In  dey  go,  sah!" 

At  another  excursion,  in  1880,  when  Chase  was  pres- 
ent, the  Tile  Club  took  possession  of  an  old  wreck  at 
Sandy  Hook.  As  the  floor  of  the  cabin  was  almost  rotted 
away  it  presented  drawbacks  even  as  a  temporary  resi- 
dence. Hopkinson  Smith,  who  prided  himself  upon  his 
great  practicality,  as  soon  as  he  arrived  upon  the  scene, 
briskly  proceeded  to  take  measurements,  and  ordered 
several  thousand  feet  of  boards  for  repairs.  The  boards 
arrived  promptly,  were  paid  for,  and  lay  upon  the  shore. 
They  were  never  used.  But  they  were  long  remembered, 
for  one  night  when  the  surf  was  high  they  began  unob- 
trusively to  float  away  on  the  tide.  Some  one  discovered 

[81] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

the  fact  and  sounded  the  alarm.  Wrathfully  the  men 
arose  and  dressed,  and  spent  an  exceedingly  damp  and 
active  night  in  rescuing  their  property. 

The  Tile  Club  went  on  a  number  of  pleasure  excur- 
sions to  the  Long  Island  coast  for  a  day  or  two  or  longer. 
It  was  at  one  of  their  dinners  at  the  beginning  of  the 
summer,  a  rather  late  and  joyous  occasion,  that  the  sub- 
ject of  the  sea-serpent  was  discussed,  with  the  result 
that  each  agreed  to  paint  his  conception  of  the  monster 
upon  his  first  excursion  to  the  seacoast.  Chase,  as  usual, 
was  prompt  to  carry  out  the  plan.  The  result,  an  interest- 
ing bit  of  color  (although  as  a  conception  of  a  sea-ser- 
pent its  mildness  would  inspire  scorn  in  the  school  of 
Stuck),  he  presented  with  irrelevant  generosity  to  that 
grand  dame  of  the  artistic  world,  Mrs.  Candace  Wheeler. 
This  canvas,  signed  "Briareus,"  still  hangs  upon  the 
walls  of  Mrs.  Wheeler's  summer-home  on  Long  Island, 
where  Chase  was  a  frequent  guest. 

At  Christmas,  1882,  the  Tile  Club  artists  illustrated 
a  sort  of  supplement  to  the  Harper  publications  called 
Harper's  Christmas.  Chase,  who  never  permitted  him- 
self to  be  forced  into  illustration,  made  a  charcoal  draw- 
ing of  a  burgomaster  for  reproduction  in  this  publica- 
tion, which  is  still  in  the  possession  of  one  of  the  Harper 
family.  In  the  strength  and  crispness  of  its  technic  it 

[82] 


A  TILE  CLUB  PILGRIMAGE 

furnishes  a  striking  contrast  to  the  tame  illustration  of 
that  period. 

C.  S.  Reinhart,  Arthur  Quartley,  Edwin  Abbey, 
Frederick  Dielman,  and  all  the  other  artist  members 
contributed  to  this  supplement.  Although  an  artistic 
success,  it  was  unfortunately  not  one  financially,  so  the 
experiment  was  never  repeated. 

An  interesting  picture  of  the  Tile  Club  and  of  the  life 
of  the  painters  of  that  period  is  shown  in  Hopkinson 
Smith's  novel  "Oliver  Horn,"  in  which  the  club  is  de- 
scribed under  the  name  of  The  Stone  Mugs,  and  the  ap- 
pearance of  Madame  Blavatsky  at  one  of  their  evenings 
is  amusingly  told.  The  painter  Munson  is  a  fictional 
presentment  of  Chase,  although  the  episode  in  which 
Munson  is  supposed  to  match  foils  with  Richard  Horn 
(Hopkinson  Smith's  father)  had  no  real  foundation  in 
fact. 

To  the  painters  recently  returned  from  Europe  the 
Tile  Club  furnished  the  artistic  atmosphere  to  which 
they  had  grown  accustomed  in  Munich  and  Paris,  and 
of  which  at  that  time  they  felt  the  lack  in  America.  It 
served  its  purpose  and  passed,  remaining  to  this  day 
to  the  men  who  were  part  of  it  a  light-hearted  memory 
of  happy  comradeship. 

[83] 


CHAPTER  Vin 
LIFE  IN  THE  TENTH  STREET  STUDIO 

FOR  a  time  in  the  summer  of  1880  Chase  was  at 
Lake  George,  where  he  apparently  enjoyed  him- 
self, not  forgetting  his  friends  the  Gersons,  however. 

"I  think  of  you  all  very  often  and  wish  that  you  were 
all  here  to  enjoy  with  me  "  [he  wrote  to  young  Alice 
Gerson  while  there].  "The  darlingest  little  boat  here  is 
named  Alice.  I  have  a  row  in  her  every  day  and  think 
of  you.  The  handsomest  yacht  on  the  lake  is  named 
Minnie.  By  the  way  I  dreamed  of  Minnie  last  night. 
I  dreamed  that  I  took  her  to  the  theatre  and  lost  her. 
I  was  in  an  awful  state  I  can  tell  you.  ...  I  suppose 
you  are  moved  by  this  time,  and  are  already  fixed  up. 

Do  you  see  as  much  of  old as  usual  ?  Mr. the 

gentleman  I  am  stopping  with  here  has  a  very  hand- 
some daughter.  We  are  having  great  larks  together  and 
we  often  go  out  rowing.  I  have  told  her  a  great  deal  about 
you.  There  is  also  a  young  lady  visiting  her  who  is  most 
charming.  The  only  thing  left  to  be  wished  for  on  my 
part  is  that  you  were  with  me.  Please  don't  forget  your 
Will  (I  mean  myself).  Be  a  good  girl  and — I  was  going 
to  say — keep  off  the  bannister"  [the  railing  of  an  upper 

[  84] 


LIFE  IN  THE  TENTH  STREET  STUDIO 

balcony  upon  which  the  young  girl  used  to  sitj,  "but 
I  remember  you  are  not  living  there  any  more.  I  would 
be  awfully  pleased  to  hear  from  you. 

"Yours  most  devotedly, 

"WiLL." 

"P.  S.  Have  lots  to  tell  you  when  I  get  home.  Give 
my  very  kindest  regards  to  your  sisters. 

"Ever  yours, 

"WiLL." 

"I  sent  a  message  by  Church  to  you.  Ask  him  for  it 

if  he  hasn't  delivered  it. 

"AGAIN  YOUR  WILL." 

It  was  in  the  fall  of  that  year  that  Chase  was  elected 
President  of  the  Society  of  American  Artists,  a  position 
he  held  for  one  year.  He  continued  to  teach  at  The  League 
and  in  his  own  studio. 

Rosina  Emmett  and  Dora  Wheeler  were  pupils  in  his 
Tenth  Street  Studio.  Soon  afterward  Chase  took  several 
others.  "And  you  could  always  tell  when  the  dear  man 
had  had  our  monthly  cheque,"  said  Mrs.  Keith,  "for 
some  new  and  beautiful  object  always  appeared  in  the 
studio  immediately  afterward." 

He  painted  a  number  of  fine  portraits  at  that  time, 

[85] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

among  them  the  excellent  one  of  General  Watson  Webb 
During  that  winter  Chase  and  Robert  Blum  met  and 
became  friends.  Chase  was  a  great  advantage  to  the 
talented  young  man,  who  was  then  comparatively  un- 
known in  New  York,  while  Chase  was  already  one  of 
the  prominent  figures  in  the  artistic  world. 

Chase's  Saturday  receptions  had  become  quite  famous. 
Long  before  his  day  the  Tenth  Street  Studios  had  been 
thrown  open  to  the  public  on  Saturdays,  but  Chase 
made  the  ceremony  an  event.  Many  of  the  younger 
painters  recall  their  first  glimpse  of  that  studio  as  the 
entrance  into  a  new  world. 

Chase  entertained  practically  all  the  painters  of  the 
period  there,  as  well  as  an  occasional  writer  and  a  few 
professionally  non-classifiable  guests.  Napoleon  Sarony 
was  one  of  his  friends  of  that  time.  A  fashionable  photog- 
rapher and  would-be  artist,  Sarony  photographed  all 
the  celebrities  that  came  to  New  York  in  his  little  studio 
on  Union  Square,  and  was  himself  a  most  picturesque 
figure.  According  to  William  Henry  Shelton,  Sarony 
"delighted  to  show  himself  on  Broadway  in  a  calfskin 
waistcoat,  hairy  side  out,  an  astrakan  cap,  and  his 
trousers  tucked  into  cavalry-boots;  accompanied  by 
his  wife  in  a  costume  by  Worth.  .  .  .  When  Sarony  was 
flush  he  bought  pictures  and  bric-a-brac  furiously." 

[86] 


LIFE  IN  THE  TENTH  STREET  STUDIO 

Upon  which  ground  Chase  must  have  found  him  con- 
genial !  His  place,  Mr.  Shelton  remarks,  "became  a  sort 
of  dumping-ground  of  dealers  in  unsalable  idols,  tattered 
tapestries  and  indigent  crocodiles."  Sarony's  rooms 
were  frequented  by  all  the  Tile  Club  men,  among  them 
Chase  in  his  famous  hat,  accompanied  by  his  almost 
equally  famous  Russian  greyhound,  which,  if  not  the 
first  Russian  greyhound  to  be  seen  in  New  York,  was 
at  least  the  first  one  to  become  a  marked  character  of 
the  boulevards.  Indeed,  in  those  days  of  his  bachelor- 
hood there  seems  always  to  have  been  a  dog  in  Chase's 
life,  usually  an  English  or  Russian  hound.  If  he  did 
not  collect  dogs  at  least  his  supply  seems  to  have  been 
greater  than  his  need,  because  he  gave  one  to  his  friend 
Robert  Blum,  and  another  to  Carroll  Beckwith.  Walter 
Palmer  remembers  an  occasion  when  one  of  these  de- 
voted hounds  was  almost  lost. 

I  quote  the  story  as  Mr.  Palmer  told  it  in  a  letter. 
"Chase  would  board  a  horse-car,  and  the  dog  seeing  him 
get  on  it  would  follow  the  car  until  Chase  alighted  and 
attracted  his  attention.  But  one  day,  alighting  at  Tenth 
Street  and  Sixth  Avenue,  he  forgot  to  call  his  dog  and 
looked  down  the  street  just  as  car  and  dog  were  going 
around  a  distant  corner.  He  bethought  him  of  the  just- 
opened  elevated  railroad,  and  hurried  to  take  a  down- 

[87] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

town  train.  Reaching  the  corner  where  the  Sixth  Avenue 
horse-cars  end  their  trip,  he  asked  the  starter  if  he  had 
seen  anything  of  a  greyhound  following  a  car.  'Oh,  yes/ 
said  the  man,  'he  came  down  behind  the  car  and  has 
gone  back  with  it.'  Chase  rushed  back  and  caught  an 
elevated  train  up-town,  and  reached  Tenth  Street  again 
just  in  time  to  intercept  the  car  and  the  dog." 

Daniel  was  in  possession  of  the  studio.  Negro-like, 
he  identified  himself  at  once  with  his  master's  interests. 
"We  have  finished  a  portrait  to-day,"  he  would  remark 
in  answer  to  inquiries  about  the  painter's  activities. 
Daniel  took  on  the  phrases  of  art  with  great  facility, 
transposing  them  with  that  indescribably  expressive 
twist  of  paraphrase  characteristic  of  the  African  mind. 
Mrs.  Sherwood  remembers  how  he  referred  to  "still 
life"  as  "still  lights,"  and  Mrs.  Keith  recalls  the  oc- 
casion when  she  confided  in  despair  to  Daniel  that  she 
had  dropped  paint  on  one  of  Mr.  Chase's  best  rugs,  and 
how  Daniel  reassured  her — "Dat's  all  right,  miss,  I  get 
it  all  out  with  a  little  pneumonia!" 

The  old  negro  regarded  himself  as  Chase's  special 
guardian,  and  reproved  him  in  most  proprietary  fashion 
when  he  failed  to  take  care  of  himself.  On  a  rainy  day  if 
Chase  forgot  his  overshoes  Daniel  would  scold  him  with 
his  soft  African  familiarity  as  if  he  had  brought  him 

[881 


LIFE  IN  THE  TENTH  STREET  STUDIO 

up.  "How's  dat  now,  Massa  Chase?  Yo'  go  out  without 
yore  scandals.  How  many  times  Dannel  tell  yo'  not  to 
do  dat  ?  Ef  yo'  catch  cold  and  die  doan  yo'  hole  Dannel 
responsible." 

Daniel  took  the  greatest  pleasure  and  pride  in  Chase's 
Saturday  receptions.  One  day  he  observed  that  the 
painter  had  turned  an  interesting  new  study  that  he 
had  just  finished  face  to  the  wall  instead  of  putting  it 
on  exhibition,  and  inquired  solicitously:  "Why,  Massa 
Chase,  aren't  yo'  going  to  show  dat  negative?" 

Mrs.  Sherwood  says  that  one  day  Daniel  brought  to 
the  studio  a  very  dark  and  very  unsavory-looking  negro 
that  he  had  met  in  the  street,  and  offered  him  to  Chase 
as  a  model.  Afterward  Mr.  Chase  said  to  him,  "Daniel, 
why  did  you  suppose  that  I  would  like  to  paint  that 
man?"  "Well,  sah,"  said  Daniel,  "I  pass  him  in  de 
street;  I  see  he  was  a  foreigner,  an'  I  knew  you  like 
paintin'  foreigners,  so  I  brung  him  in."  It  seemed  that 
the  man  was  a  sailor  and  had  been  born  in  Africa. 

There  were  certain  melancholy  occasions  when  Daniel 
by  some  mischance  landed  himself  in  jail.  One  of  these 
made  a  particular  impression  on  Chase's  memory  be- 
cause it  was  the  occasion  of  some  colored  ball,  and  Daniel 
had  appeared  in  the  guise  of  an  eighteenth-century  cour- 
tier clad  in  white  satin,  most  magnificent  to  behold, 

[89] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

and  had  proudly  exhibited  himself  to  his  master  before 
he  left  for  the  ball.  But  Daniel  did  not  return  the  next 
day  or  the  next.  The  third  day  Chase  was  summoned 
to  the  Jefferson  Market  Police  Court  to  bail  out  his 
servitor.  There  in  a  cell  in  painful  contrast  to  his  start- 
ing forth,  sat  a  crumpled,  damaged  Daniel  still  in  white 
satin,  a  sight  which  seemed  to  particularly  impress  the 
sensitive  eye  of  his  master.  In  time,  however,  Chase 
grew  accustomed  to  these  temporary  absences.  One  day 
he  received  a  desperate  appeal  from  the  missing  Daniel, 
again  temporarily  deprived  of  his  liberty,  couched  in 
these  words:  "Dear  Mr.  Chase,  You  an'  Jesus  am  de 
only  friends  I  got.  For  God's  sake  send  me  some  chewin' 
tobacco."  Daniel  remained  as  guardian  of  the  studio 
for  several  years,  caring  for  his  master's  paint-brushes, 
his  dogs,  the  red  macaw  and  the  green  macaw,  the  savage 
white  cockatoo,  and  all  the  other  studio  properties. 

Chase,  who  delighted  in  all  the  little  ways  of  his  pets, 
used  to  tell  how  one  of  the  macaws  would  fall  asleep 
trying  to  perch  with  .one  foot  crossed  on  the  other,  after 
which  attempt  he  would  nearly  lose  his  balance,  then 
half  awake  rebuke  himself:  "Look  out,  look  out."  This 
bird,  who  was  quite  a  fluent  conversationalist,  taught  the 
other  one  to  talk.  He  also  used  to  play  tricks  on  Daniel. 
Chase  says  that  one  day  when  he  was  in  the  upper  room 

[90] 


LIFE  IN  THE  TENTH  STREET  STUDIO 

he  was  startled  to  hear  himself  calling  Daniel,  a  short, 
peremptory  call  that  he  recognized  at  once  as  his  own. 
Daniel  came  running  in  from  the  other  studio.  "Yes, 
sah,  yes,  sah,  here  I  is."  But  when  he  got  in  the  room 
from  which  the  voice  had  come  his  master  was  not  there; 
as  the  negro  stood  looking  about  in  bewilderment  the 
seemingly  diabolic  bird  burst  into  cackles  of  laughter. 
Chase  saw  Daniel  go  up  to  the  cage,  shaking  his  fist  at 
the  parrot.  "'Yo'  mis'able  no-count  bird,  some  day  I 
wring  yore  neck !" 

At  last  Chase  was  obliged  to  part  with  Daniel  because 
of  the  African's  imperfect  sense  of  property  rights.  A 
friend  of  Chase's,  a  photographer,  decided  to  take  him 
despite  the  warning  of  his  former  employer,  but  the 
day  came  when  he  was  very  much  embarrassed  to  learn 
that  one  of  his  sitters  had  missed  a  wallet  containing 
quite  a  large  sum  of  money.  Daniel,  who  had  taken  the 
visitor's  coat  in  charge,  was  questioned,  and  stoutly 
denied  all  knowledge  of  the  matter.  It  was  discovered, 
however,  that  the  pocketbook  had  disappeared  through 
Daniel's  collusion  with  another  negro  to  whom  he  had 
dropped  it  out  of  the  window.  The  manner  in  which 
Daniel  was  led  into  self-betrayal  always  delighted  Chase. 
Taking  his  old  servant  in  hand  himself,  he  said  gravely: 
"Daniel,  this  gentleman's  wallet  contained  one  hundred 

[91] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

and  fifty  dollars,  and  it  must  be  found."  Daniel's  eyes 
began  to  roll. 

"Is  dat  so,  sah?  Is  dat  so!  One  hunred  fifty  dollahs? 
You  just  wait  till  I  get  hold  of  dat  niggah !  He  give  me 
ten  dollahs.  He  say  he  give  me  hah*,  he  tell  me  dere  was 
only  twenty  dollahs  in  dat  purse !" 

Daniel  was  succeeded  by  Theodore,  another  sym- 
pathetic African  somewhat  less  picturesque,  but  of 
more  methodical  habits,  who  fell  heir  to  the  red  fez  and 
remained  with  Chase  until  he  gave  up  the  Tenth  Street 
Studio. 


[92] 


CHAPTER  IX 
EUROPE  REVISITED:   SPAIN  AND  VELASQUEZ 

EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  AND  EIGHTY-ONE 
was  the  year  of  Chase's  first  return  trip  to 
Europe.  Carroll  Beckwith  who  had  spent  the  summer 
before  in  Spain,  talked  of  the  Velasquez  in  the  Prado, 
of  the  sights  and  colors  of  Spain,  till  Chase  could  bear 
it  no  longer,  and  when  June  brought  release  from  teach- 
ing he  took  passage  on  the  Belgenland  with  Beckwith, 
Blum,  Herbert  Denman,  A.  A.  Anderson,  and  a  decora- 
tor named  Lawrence. 

After  a  few  days  out,  Mr.  Beckwith's  diary  relates, 
Chase,  very  much  bored  with  the  enforced  inactivity, 
proposed  decorating  the  ladies'  cabin.  Beckwith,  not 
being  quite  as  good  a  sailor  as  Chase,  and  evidently  from 
the  record  of  his  diary  rather  impressed  with  an  at- 
tractive young  woman  on  board,  was  not  at  all  enthu- 
siastic about  the  suggestion.  But  the  energetic  Chase 
fairly  dragged  his  fellow  painters  into  the  project.  The 
captain,  needless  to  state,  was  delighted  at  having  his 
ship  decorated  by  modern  masters.  The  ladies'  cabin 
became  a  showroom  while  the  pictures  were  allowed 
to  remain,  but  not  long  afterward  the  panels  were  cut 

[931 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

out  and,  it  is  said,  were  set  up  in  the  home  of  one  of  the 
owners  of  the  line. 

Chase  spent  most  of  his  time  in  Spain  that  summer, 
but  he  stopped  for  a  short  time  in  Paris,  and  an  event 
of  considerable  importance  to  American  art  occurred 
during  his  stay  there. 

One  day  as  he  was  strolling  along  the  Boulevard  he 
chanced  to  meet  Alden  Weir.  Weir  had  gone  over  to 
purchase  pictures  for  a  wealthy  New  Yorker  without 
any  recompense  save  the  collector's  promise  that  the 
pictures  should  afterward  be  presented  or  left  to  the 
Metropolitan  Museum.  As  soon  as  Chase  heard  his 
friend's  errand  he  exclaimed:  "Come  with  me  right  away 
to  Durand-Ruel's.  They  have  two  wonderful  Manets 
there.  You  must  have  them."  Weir  went  with  Chase 
at  once,  and  that  is  how  the  Metropolitan  Museum 
came  into  possession  of  the  Boy  with  tJie  Sword  and  the 
Girl  with  the  Parrot. 

Weir  tells  of  going  to  Manet's  studio  not  long  after 
that.  Manet  received  him  while  he  was  painting  from 
a  model.  The  American  painter  asked  the  price  of  two 
landscapes  in  the  studio  and  was  told  that  they  were 
a  thousand  francs  apiece,  which  price  he  instantly  agreed 
to.  Manet  left  the  room  a  minute  and  the  model  ex- 
claimed: "Oh,  Monsieur,  why  did  you  not  wait?  7  could 

[94] 


EUROPE  REVISITED 

have  bought  those  pictures  for  you  for  two  hundred 
francs."  An  incident,  Weir  remarked,  which  showed 
the  valuation  placed  upon  Manet's  work  by  his  coun- 
trymen at  that  time. 

It  was  during  this  trip  to  Paris  that  Chase  met  the 
Belgian  artist  Alfred  Stevens  whose  art  he  admired  so 
profoundly — although  that  enthusiam  seems  to  have 
had  no  direct  influence  upon  his  own  work.  Stevens 
gave  the  highest  praise  to  Chase's  beautiful  portrait  of 
Duveneck  in  the  Salon,  but  he  made  a  comment  that 
proved  to  be  a  turning-point  in  Chase's  art  develop- 
ment: "But  why  do  you  try  to  make  your  canvases  look 
as  if  they  had  been  painted  by  the  old  masters  ?  " 

From  that  hour,  Chase  says,  he  sought  to  express  his 
own  individuality  in  his  art. 

In  July  of  this  year  there  is  an  interesting  letter  from 
Blum  in  Venice  to  Chase  in  Spain.  The  late  Gedney 
Bunce,  who  spent  so  much  of  his  time  in  Venice  and 
who  died  a  few  days  after  Chase,  was  there  also.  Blum 
after  speaking  of  his  own  inability  to  get  to  work  refers 
to  his  brother  artist :  "Bunce  simply  exists  and  leisurely 
watches  his  opportunity  to  tell  you  how  the  Venetians 
lie  and  cheat.  .  .  .  He  has  had  a  falling  out  with  his 
gondolier.  .  .  .  The  other  day  somebody  said  that 
Tilden  had  spoken  of  himself  as  discovering  Venice. 

[95] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

Bunce  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  said:  'Oh,  yes,  he 
may  have  discovered  it,  but  I  am  the  George  Washington 
of  it.'  " 
From  Madrid  meantime  Chase  writes  to  Alice  Ger- 

s 

son,  but  not  of  Madrid: 

"I  began  to  think  that  some  of  my  friends  at  home 
had  forgotten  me  altogether.  I  am  awfully  sorry  and 
wish  I  knew  what  I  could  do  to  remedy  the  misfortune. 
Perhaps  my  friends  have  found  someone  else  who  pleases 
them  better  than  I  do  and  that  is  the  reason  why  I  do 
not  receive  any  letter  from  them.  I  have  a  great  deal 
that  I  might  tell  my  friends  about.  But  then  I  begin 
to  question  if  they  would  care  to  hear  it.  ...  There  is 
just  time  for  one  letter  to  reach  me  if  it  is  written  imme- 
diately. Recommend  me  to  your  charming  sisters  and 
believe  me  to  be  one  of  your  most  ardent  admirers, 

WILL." 

"Do  please  write  and  tell  me  everything  that  has 
taken  place  since  I  left.  "  W." 

Chase  does  not  seem  to  have  painted  much  upon  this 
trip,  although  his  study  of  the  Velasquez  in  the  museum 
and  the  closer  contact  with  Spanish  art  possible  in  the 

[96] 


EUROPE  REVISITED 

country  had  a  very  direct  influence  upon  his  painting, 
as  is  evidenced  in  a  number  of  his  pictures  of  that  period, 
of  which  A  Spanish  Lady,  exhibited  at  the  Memorial 
Exhibition  at  the  Metropolitan  Museum,  is  an  example. 

One  of  Chase's  first  experiences  in  Spain  might  be 
called  the  duel  of  the  dog.  It  has  a  piquant  combina- 
tion of  farce  and  melodrama. 

Although  a  peaceable  person,  Chase  had  in  his  nature 
a  great  capacity  for  righteous  indignation.  When  he 
perceived  a  wrong  he  desired  to  see  it  righted.  Yet  his 
psychological  processes  were  such  that  the  results  of 
his  acts  not  infrequently  presented  a  marked  contrast 
to  his  eminently  praiseworthy  intentions. 

He  had  heard  a  great  deal  of  the  cruelty  of  the  Span- 
iard to  animals,  stories  to  which  the  painful  sights  of 
maltreated  horses  and  donkeys  usual  in  Latin  coun- 
tries had  given  corroboration,  and  had  become  quite 
wrought  up  on  the  subject.  One  of  the  tales  that  had 
particularly  inflamed  him  was  a  statement  that  the 
Spaniards  were  in  the  habit  of  giving  a  small  quantity 
of  poison  to  dogs,  not  sufficient  to  kill,  in  order  to  amuse 
themselves  with  the  sight  of  the  animals'  suffering. 
Whether  true  or  not,  the  story  made  a  great  impression 
upon  the  artist's  mind.  One  day  as  he  was  passing  a 
house  in  Madrid  a  dog  frothing  at  the  mouth  and  con- 

[97] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

torted  in  apparent  agony  tumbled  out  of  a  doorway 
accompanied  by  a  pursuing  crowd  of  men.  The  painter's 
humane  indignation  being  instantly  aroused  at  this  horrid 
proof  of  the  truth  of  the  tale,  he  acted  swiftly.  Mercy 
demanded  that  the  animal  be  put  out  of  its  misery  at 
once.  He  raised  his  cane,  and  with  strong  and  unerring 
aim  brought  its  head  down  upon  the  animal's  skull, 
promptly  ending  its  supposed  sufferings  forever.  But 
the  result  was  a  mob,  much  tumult,  and  an  angry  and 
threatening  babel  of  voices  in  an  unknown  tongue. 

Upon  the  sea  of  this  picturesque  but  not  reassuring 
mob,  Chase  was  borne  along  the  narrow  street  until 
they  chanced  upon  a  circus  tent.  At  its  door  stood  a 
ticket-man  who  was  able  to  act  as  interpreter,  and  then 
it  was  revealed  that  the  dog  had  been  suffering  merely 
from  a  common  fit,  and  however  he  may  or  may  not 
have  been  treated  in  life,  he  was  now,  it  seemed,  pas- 
sionately mourned  by  his  outraged  master,  whose  grief 
demanded  that  the  murderer  fight  a  duel  with  him  on 
the  spot.  .A  sort  of  truce  was  patched  up,  and  the  painter 
was  allowed  to  go  home;  but  that  afternoon  he  received 
an  invitation  to  visit  a  certain  cafe  in  the  evening  in 
order  to  discuss  the  matter  further.  It  became  evident 
that  the  idea  of  vengeance  still  possessed  the  mind  of 
the  bereaved  dog-owner. 

[98]          * 


EUROPE  REVISITED 

Now  Chase  was  a  crack  shot.  He  accepted  the  invita- 
tion to  the  cafe,  and  while  they  sat  about  in  clouds  of 
smoke,  to  the  accompaniment  of  guitars  he  amiably 
amused  his  audience  with  exhibitions  of  his  skill,  such 
as  cutting  a  thread  with  a  shot,  shooting  a  tiny  tack 
suspended  from  a  moving  string,  and  splitting  a  card 
placed  edgewise  in  a  crack  in  the  wall.  And  as  the  enthu- 
siasm of  his  audience  waxed  greater,  from  the  tail  of 
his  eye  he  saw  his  enemy  shrivel  against  the  wall.  It 
was  clear  that  he  had  lost  all  desire  for  a  contest  of 
arms  with  the  painter.  Chase  heard  no  more  of  the  duel 
of  the  dog.  But  that  was  not  the  only  occasion  upon 
which  his  humanity  made  him  a  marked  character  in 
Spain. 

Irving  Wiles,  who  met  the  painter  in  Madrid  in  1905, 
remembers  Chase's  description  of  a  donkey  that  he 
made  famous  throughout  Madrid  that  same  summer. 
Chase  decided  that  he  needed  a  donkey  to  carry  his 
painting  materials  and  purchases,  but  when  it  was  brought 
for  his  inspection  he  was  filled  with  consternation  at 
the  sight  of  the  wretchedly  thin  little  animal.  He  or- 
dered at  once  that  a  large  measure  of  oats  should  be  fed 
to  his  donkey  daily.  "Oats  to  a  donkey!"  exclaimed 
the  donkey -herd  in  horror,  and  argued  the  matter,  not 
believing  his  ears.  Chase  insisted,  and  at  last  the  don- 

[99] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

key's  keeper  agreed,  but  evidently  only  to  pacify  the 
erratic  American.  For  the  donkey  remained  thin,  and 
Chase  noticing  the  fact,  wrathfully  accused  the  keeper 
of  starving  his  donkey.  This  time  he  made  threats  that 
were  convincing  and  the  little  beast  became  famous 
as  the  first  donkey  in  Spain  to  be  fed  with  oats.  He  grew 
fat  and  sleek.  Tricked  out  with  a  decorated  harness 
highly  polished  and  ornamented  with  tassels  and  bows, 
he  became  one  of  the  sights  of  Madrid.  The  inhabitants 
stood  still  when  he  passed  to  look  at  the  fat  donkey  in 
the  brass  harness,  the  property  of  a  mad  American  artist 
who  suffered  from  the  delusion  that  donkeys  should  be 
fed  with  oats. 

Despite  his  sympathy  for  animals,  which  seemed  so 
eccentric  to  the  Spanish  mind,  Chase  developed  a  great 
enthusiasm  for  the  bull-fight.  Indeed,  perhaps  through 
his  adoration  of  Velasquez,  Spain  was  one  of  the  coun- 
tries that  laid  a  spell  upon  his  imagination  which  drew 
him  repeatedly  back  again.  That  trip  in  1881  was  the 
first  of  many  pilgrimages  to  be  made  there  over  a  period 
covering  a  quarter  of  a  century. 

Not  only  was  the  effect  of  Spain  and  the  Prado  upon 
Chase's  art  noticeable  the  following  winter,  it  seemed 
also  to  give  added  inspiration  to  his  teaching.  At  The 
League,  where  his  invigorating  influence  had  already 

[100] 


EUROPE  REVISITED 

begun  to  show  results,  his  class  that  year  did  especially 
strong  work.  Chase  did  not  allow  his  students  to  putter 
or  relax.  Instead  of  spending  a  week  or  more  on  one  study 
they  were  given  an  hour  in  which  to  paint  a  head;  they 
were  told  not  to  keep  their  studies,  but  to  paint  them 
out  and  use  the  canvas  for  a  fresh  start — commonplaces 
of  the  art  school  now,  these  ideas,  but  Chase  was  the 
revolutionist  who  first  set  them  in  motion. 

"Take  off  your  coats!"  he  exclaimed  one  day  as  he 
entered  the  class  where  the  men  were  placidly  working. 
"Roll  up  your  sleeves  and  swear  at  your  work !" 

Another  time,  as  he  came  into  the  portrait  class  to 
criticise,  he  caught  sight  of  a  young  woman  from  Bos- 
ton, a  pupil  of  William  Hunt's  who  had  a  very  good 
opinion  of  her  gifts  and  methods.  She  was  standing  be- 
fore her  canvas  on  which  she  had  been  working  carefully 
all  week  with  her  palette-knife  in  her  hand.  "That's 
right,  scrape  it  out,"  said  Chase  as  if  he  had  supposed 
that  to  be  her  intention. 

"But,  Mr.  Chase,  I  was  going  to  keep  it,"  she  faltered. 

"Keep  it!"  repeated  Chase,  with  affected  incredulity. 
"Then  at  least  take  it  away  where  the  other  students 
can't  see  it  and  be  influenced  by  it." 

That  was  not  the  infinitely  kind  and  tolerant  Chase 
of  later  years,  but  it  was  not  the  time  for  tolerance.  It 

[101] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

was  necessary  to  break  through  the  dead  methods  of  the 
reigning  academic  school  with  sharp  and  vigorous  strokes, 
and  the  Chase  of  that  day  did  not  hesitate  to  do  it.  Yet, 
then  as  always,  all  that  he  had  or  could  command  was 
at  the  service  of  art.  Daniel  travelled  constantly  from  the 
Tenth  Street  Studio  to  The  League  with  loads  of  still- 
life  material — draperies,  Venetian  glass,  pieces  of  copper 
and  brass,  and  bric-a-brac.  No  matter  how  valuable  the 
things  were  they  were  lent  without  stint  to  students  or 
other  painters.  To  the  composition  class  at  The  League, 
held  by  his  friend  Shirlaw,  he  also  sent  the  treasures  of 
his  studio  in  order  that  beautiful  arrangements  in  still 
life  might  be  set  before  the  students  as  examples. 

Indeed,  it  would  be  difficult  to  make  a  complete  record 
of  all  that  William  Chase  meant  to  American  artists  and 
art  students  at  that  momentous  period. 


[  102] 


CHAPTER  X 
SPAIN  AND  HOLLAND  WITH  BLUM 

THE  next  summer  Chase  went  back  to  Spain.  De- 
positing his  dog  Fly  with  Alice  Gerson  and  his 
macaws  with  Mrs.  Candace  Wheeler,  he  took  passage 
with  Beckwith  and  Blum.  The  dog,  despite  recurrent 
demands  for  a  constitutional,  proved  a  comparatively 
easy  charge,  but  the  macaws  were  something  of  a  care 
to  their  temporary  owner,  as  one  had  a  trick  of  pecking 
the  ring  from  its  ankle  and  flying  to  the  top  of  the  tallest 
tree,  from  which  at  the  peril  of  his  life  one  of  the  men 
on  the  place  had  to  rescue  it. 

Arthur  Quartley,  Ferdinand  Lungren  and  Frederick 
Vinton  were  also  of  the  party.  They  sailed  on  the  Red 
Star  liner  Pennland,  for  the  Red  Star  Line  encouraged 
artists  to  make  use  of  it  by  giving  them  special  rates. 

Clarence  Beul,  of  the  old  Scribner's  Monthly,  went 
with  the  painters  to  write  the  story  of  the  voyage.  This 
time  they  decorated  the  captain's  room,  the  painters 
drawing  lots  for  their  portion.  The  centre  panel  went 
to  Chase.  There  he  made  a  portrait  of  the  captain,  ar- 
ranging the  figure  so  that  a  push-button  in  the  panel 
seemed  to  be  the  end  of  his  marine  glass. 

The  painters  also  amused  themselves  making  kites 

[103] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

of  canvas  which  they  sent  off  from  the  deck,  using 
up  all  the  spare  rope  on  the  ship.  Blum  entertained 
himself  by  making  caricatures  of  every  one,  himself 
included,  an  art  in  which  he  was  embarrassingly  ex- 
pert. 

Indeed,  Blum's  impulse  to  caricature  was  irresistible. 
Often  in  Paris  at  a  cafe  Chase  would  discover  his  friend 
at  work  at  a  neighboring  table.  One  day  while  Blum 
was  thus  enjoying  himself  at  Chase's  expense,  Chase 
rose  and  went  out  into  the  street.  A  minute  afterward 
Blum  heard  his  voice  and,  looking  up,  saw  Chase  in  com- 
pany with  a  man,  one  of  the  most  exaggerated  types  of 
the  Boulevard.  Ceremoniously  he  introduced  this  individ- 
ual to  Blum  and  invited  him  to  seat  himself  at  Blum's 
table.  "This  gentleman  wishes  to  make  a  sketch  of 
you,"  he  said  and  withdrew,  leaving  Blum  to  find  his 
way  out  of  the  situation. 

After  leaving  Paris,  Chase,  Vinton  and  Blum  went 
on  to  Spain  together.  Chase  having  persuaded  Blum  to 
go  to  Madrid,  was  unable  to  get  him  out  of  it,  for  Blum 
declared  that  nothing  that  Spain  could  offer  could  pos- 
sibly be  as  wonderful  as  Madrid.  Finally,  Chase  induced 
his  friend  to  go  to  Toledo  just  for  the  day.  He  received 
a  telegram  from  Blum  soon  after  his  arrival,  requesting 
to  have  his  clothes  and  paints  sent  on  to  Toledo  at  once, 

[  104] 


SPAIN  AND  HOLLAND  WITH  BLUM 

as  nothing  would  induce  him  to  leave  that  wonderful 
place. 

A  few  days  later  Blum  wrote  from  Toledo  to  Chase 
in  Madrid: 

"DEAR  CHASE, 

"The  above  picture"  [an  artist  surrounded  by  in- 
terested children]  "can  perhaps  express  better  than 
pages  the  state  of  mental  serenity  enjoyed  in  this  old 
place.  I  think  I  will  include  Vinton  in  the  above  state- 
ment (perhaps  more  so).  We  are  nicely  fixed  in  a  house 
with  a  patio,  and  Vinton  for  once  was  pleased  for  two 
consecutive  minutes,  exclaiming:  'Ah,  now,  that's  the 
sort  of  thing  I  like ! '  He  keeps  on  making  dire  and  sun- 
dry threats  to  speak  Spanish  to  the  natives,  hoping  and 
wishing  with  blood-curdling  ferocity  to  have  the  whole 
Spanish  nation  by  the  throat  so  as  to  kill  it  once  for  all. 
He  has  an  extreme  love  and  fondness  for  the  beggars,  of 
which  he  is  full  to  his  eyes  when  he  passes  them. 

"...  They  have  about  seven  cats  and  two  or  three 
birds  including  one  of  those  Spanish  quails,  to  the  de- 
light of  Vinton.  I  suppose  it  would  be  considered  a  very 
good  singer  for  it  keeps  on  long  after  dark.  Late  last 
night  I  heard  Vinton,  in  a  dream  I  suppose,  mutter 
something  about  preferring  quail  on  toast. 

[105] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

"You  ought  to  come  down.  How  did  you  enjoy  yes- 
terday's bullfight?  Let  me  hear  from  you  soon. 

"Yours  sincerely, 

"ROBERT  BLUM." 
"I  suppose  Vinton  sends  his  regards." 

Blum  remained  in  Spain  longer  than  Chase  did.  When 
he  finally  returned  to  Madrid,  Chase  had  gone  on  to 
France  and  Holland.  Blum  wrote  to  his  friend  directly 
after  his  arrival: 

"DEAR  CHASE: — 

"Here  I  am  seated  in  Vinton's  room,  time  Monday 
7:30  A.  M.  I  left  Toledo  yesterday.  It  really  felt  like 
coming  home  to  get  here  once  more.  I  expected  every 
now  and  then  to  have  you  pop  out  of  some  dusky  corner, 
in  fact  so  strong  ran  my  imaginations  on  this  point  that 
getting  up  this  morning  and  hearing  someone  in  our  old 
room  contentedly  yawning,  I  said  to  myself,  'I'll  just 
give  him  a  rouser.'  It  was  some  time  before  I  could  re- 
sist the  terrible  temptation  and  believe  that  things  were 
not  as  they  once  were.  I  have  had  an  awfully  good  time 
of  course.  I  speak  Spanish  now  like  a  native.  I  will  only 
state  as  a  proof  of  this  assertion  that  whenever  I  open 
my  mouth  to  speak  the  natives  flock  to  gather  in  their 

[106] 


SPAIN  AND  HOLLAND   WITH  BLUM 

stock  of  knowledge  and  get  the  correct  pronunciation. 
.  .  .  Just  looking  up  from  writing  I  observed  a  broken 
pane  in  the  window.  Did  Vinton  have  to  pay  for  it? 
How  did  you  enjoy  your  visit  to  Boldini  ?  Much,  I  war- 
rant. I  look  forward  with  a  good  deal  of  pleasure  to 
joining  you  soon.  With  heartiest  wishes  for  your  en- 
joyment of  Holland,  believe  me, 

"Your  sincere  friend, 

"ROBERT  BLUM." 

Chase  collected  a  vast  amount  of  bric-a-brac,  stuffs, 
curios  and  pictures  in  Spain,  only  a  small  portion 
of  which  he  took  back  with  him  on  that  trip,  al- 
though later  he  got  together  a  good  deal  of  it  and  had 
it  sent  to  America.  Blum,  who  was  too  much  influenced 
by  Japanese  art  to  care  for  profusion  in  decoration,  used 
to  say,  "Some  day  you  will  come  to  seeing  it  that  way, 
too,  and  give  up  bric-a-brac,"  but  Chase  never  did. 

That  winter  a  new  organization  called  the  Society  of 
American  Painters  in  Pastel,  of  which  Robert  Blum 
was  the  talented  but  unpractical  president,  carried  on 
an  interesting  if  irregular  existence.  It  had  at  least  three 
exhibitions,  not  held  at  any  stated  time,  in  which  some 
distinctive  work  was  shown.  The  members  were  Blum, 
Chase,  Wiles,  Blashfield,  Beckwith,  La  Farge,  Twacht- 

[107] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

man,  Weir,  Walter  Palmer,  H.  B.  and  F.  C.  Jones.  Out- 
side painters  were  sometimes  invited  to  send  pictures 
to  these  exhibitions.  The  last  one,  which  was  held  in 
1889,  attracted  a  great  deal  of  attention  among  critics 
and  artists. 

In  1883  Chase  went  to  Europe  in  company  with 
Frederick  Freer  of  Boston,  again  on  the  Penrdand.  They 
met  Siddons  Mowbray  on  board.  Mowbray  says  that 
Chase  insisted  upon  a  repetition  of  the  decorative  feat. 
This  time  it  was  the  smoking-room  that  was  honored. 
Chase  drew  a  panel  containing  a  barometer,  a  difficulty 
he  got  around  by  painting  a  clown  lying  on  his  back 
juggling  with  the  barometer  with  his  feet.  In  another 
panel  he  painted  a  Spaniard  in  a  large  hat. 

Either  on  this  trip  or  the  one  taken  the  following 
year,  Chase  again  visited  Madrid,  and  in  1884  he  spent 
quite  a  long  time  in  Holland  with  Blum  at  Zandvoort, 
where  Blum  took  a  little  house.  It  was  in  the  yard  of 
this  house  that  the  picture  for  which  Blum  posed  called 
variously  The  Tiff,  Tlie  Outdoor  Breakfast,  and  Sunlight 
and  Shadow  was  painted.  Under  this  last  name  it  was 
exhibited  at  the  exhibition  preceding  the  sale  of  Chase's 
pictures  in  May,  1917. 

When  Chase  had  a  class  in  Haarlem  in  1903  he  went 
to  Zandvoort  to  see  the  people  from  whom  Blum  had 

[108] 


.2 

Q   •« 

23 

33     S 
0     M 

3    £ 


SPAIN  AND  HOLLAND  WITH  BLUM 

rented  his  little  house.  And  again  in  1912  when  he  had 
his  class  at  Bruges  he  looked  them  up.  A  pupil  who 
went  with  him  that  time  describes  how  he  hunted  through 
the  little  streets  by  the  canal  until  he  found  the  familiar 
green  door.  The  minute  he  entered  he  was  recognized 
by  the  family.  The  little  girl  that  he  and  Blum  had 
painted  was  a  married  woman  with  well-grown  children, 
but  she  remembered  him.  The  old  grandmother,  then 
eighty  years  old,  gave  a  cry  of  joy  at  the  sight  of  him 
and  throwing  her  arms  around  his  neck,  kissed  him. 
Chase  was  touched  to  the  heart  at  finding  himself  thus 
held  in  remembrance  by  these  simple  people. 

During  the  summer  of  1884  Chase  painted  a  number 
of  canvases  with  the  figure  in  the  open.  They  are  on 
the  whole  heavier  in  color  than  his  later  outdoor  paint- 
ing and  lack  the  simplification  and  distinction  in  ar- 
rangement that  he  afterward  achieved.  They  are  per- 
haps more  interesting  as  examples  of  a  stage  in  his 
development  than  in  themselves  as  pictures. 

Before  returning  to  America  Chase  purchased  the 
beautiful  white  Russian  hound  Katti  which  he  used  in 
several  pictures,  notably  the  pastel  of  one  of  his  sisters 
shown  in  the  sale  exhibition  in  May,  1917. 

The  dog,  a  fastidious  and  aristocratic  person,  spent 
the  following  summer  with  Chase's  parents,  where  he 

[109] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

was  the  most  considered  member  of  the  family.  They 
found  him  rather  a  trying  guest  as  he  refused  to  eat 
anything  but  beefsteak,  and  they  were  in  constant  fear 
of  losing  him.  He  survived,  however,  to  be  painted  by 
Chase  and  caricatured  by  Church  and  Blum  for  several 
summers. 


[  110 


CHAPTER  XI 
IN  LONDON  WITH  WHISTLER 

EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  AND  EIGHTY-FIVE 
was  the  year  of  Chase's  memorable  meeting  with 
Whistler.  He  had  planned  a  trip  to  Holland  and  Spain 
after  a  brief  stop  in  London,  but  his  presentation  of 
a  letter  of  introduction  to  Whistler  considerably 
altered  the  course  of  his  plans.  Chase's  recollections 
of  that  meeting,  recorded  by  a  writer  for  The  Century 
and  published  in  that  magazine  in  June,  1910,  run  as 
follows : 

"A  friend  of  Whistler's  gave  me  a  letter, — a  *  strong- 
pun '  letter, — and  armed  with  this  I  hastened  to  Whis- 
tler's studio  in  King  Street,  determined  not  to  beard  the 
lion  in  his  den,  but  at  least  to  salute  him. 

"I  rapped  and  waited.  Most  callers  waited  at  Whis- 
tler's door  in  those  days,  and  few  were  admitted. 

"Suddenly  the  door  was  opened,  guardedly,  however, 
and  a  dapper  little  man  appeared  on  the  threshold  and 
eyed  me  keenly. 

"'You're  Chase,'  said  he  quickly,  'are  you  not?' 

"My  carefully  prepared  words  took  sudden  flight, 
and  left  me  standing  in  utter  confusion.  'Yes,'  I  said 
guiltily.  'How  did  you  know?' 

[mi 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

'"Oh,  the  boys  have  told  me  about  you.  Come  in.' 
He  tossed  the  proffered  letter,  unopened  upon  a  chair, 
linked  his  arm  affectionately  within  mine,  and  led  the 
way  to  his  studio.  Our  camaraderie  began  at  once.  For 
some  reason  he  dubbed  me  *  colonel/  and  in  a  moment 
we  were  chatting  like  old  friends." 

In  a  letter  to  Alice  Gerson,  written  a  few  days  after- 
ward, Chase  refers  to  this  meeting: 

"I'll  most  likely  remain  some  days  longer  than  I  ex- 
pected. Whistler  has  begun  a  full  length  portrait  of  me, 
and  I  will  stay  to  enable  him  to  finish  it.  He's  the  most 
amusing  fellow  I  have  ever  met.  London  is  in  the  height 
of  the  season  now  and  everything  is  gay  and  lovely.  .  . 
My  friend  Mr.  Dodd  is  still  with  me"  (Mr.  Samuel  Dodd 
of  St.  Louis,  one  of  the  men  who  had  assisted  in  sending 
Chase  to  Munich  to  study),  "and  I  find  him  the  same  jolly 
old  companion  I  found  him  in  the  beginning.  I'll  enclose  a 
tin-type  we  had  taken  the  other  night  by  electric  light. 
After  I  get  through  here  I  will  take  a  boat  direct  for  Hol- 
land. Mr.  Whistler  talks  of  going  with  me.  I  hope  he  will." 

But  as  we  read  farther  in  the  article  describing  those 
days,  we  note  a  certain  modification  of  Chase's  en- 
thusiasm : 

"Few  hosts  were  ever  as  charming  as  Whistler  could 
be;  few  men  were  as  fascinating  to  know — for  a  brief 


IN  LONDON  WITH  WHISTLER 

time.  For  a  day  I  was  literally  overwhelmed  with  his 
attentions;  for  a  week  and  more  he  was  constantly  a 
most  agreeable,  thoughtful,  delightful  companion. 

"It  had  been  my  intention  to  hasten  on  to  Madrid; 
but  he  would  have  none  of  it.  *  Don't  hurry,'  he  said 
calmly  and  with  that  sublime  egotism  he  often  ex- 
pressed: 'there  are  many  of  my  paintings  here  which 
you  ought  to  see.' 

"He  had  an  exhibition  in  Bond  Street  at  the  time, 
and  we  spent  some  days  there  together,  viewing  his 
wonderful  nocturnes.  Occasionally  he  would  speak  of 
some  painting  of  his  hung  in  a  private  home.  'You  go 
and  see  it,'  he  urged;  'I  can't.'  He  could  not,  I  found. 
His  biting  tongue,  his  constant  quarreling,  had  made 
him  persona  non  grata  in  many  London  homes." 

"At  the  end  of  a  fortnight  he  was  quarreling  with  me. 
It  was  impossible,  I  believe,  for  any  man  to  live  long  in 
harmony  with  him.  After  a  brief  discussion  one  day, — 
he  chose  to  make  it  brief, — he  said  flatly,  'My  dear 
Colonel,  I'm  not  arguing  with  you;  I'm  telling  you!' 
It  was  one  of  his  favorite  phrases.  This  was  simply  in- 
dicative of  his  general  attitude:  it  was  Whistler  or  noth- 
ing in  all  things  great  and  small. 

"I  felt  Madrid  calling  me  again  and  determined  to 
be  off;  but  he,  noting  my  preparations,  was  instantly 

[H3] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT 

the  charming,  affectionate  host.  'Don't  go,'  he  urged. 
'Stay,  and  we'll  paint  portraits  of  each  other.'  As  usual, 
Whistler  had  his  way." 

Chase  writes  again  a  month  later  to  Alice  Gerson 
and  a  decided  change  in  his  view-point  is  perceptible: 

"I  really  begin  to  feel  that  I  never  will  get  away  from 
here.  I'm  getting  on  well  with  my  portrait  of  Whistler 
which  promises  to  be  the  best  thing  I've  done.  He  is 
most  finished  with  my  portrait.  I  will  bring  both  por- 
traits home  with  me.  Mr.  Whistler  goes  to  Holland  with 
me  next  week.  Great  goodness,  just  think  of  my  getting 
to  Holland  so  late.  I  have  only  about  three  weeks  left 
me  to  work  in.  I  have  not  had  a  letter  from  you  in  two 
weeks.  What  is  the  matter?  .  .  Mr.  Dodd  left  me  last 
night  and  I  feel  quite  lonesome  without  him." 

Chase's  comments  on  his  hotel  strike  oddly  upon  the 
ear  of  the  traveller  of  to-day: 

"The  Metropole  is  the  finest  hotel  in  London  (was 
finished  this  Spring).  I  know  of  nothing  so  fine  at  home. 
All  the  great  swells  come  here,  a  great  many  Americans 
among  them.  Last  night  I  recognized  DeWitt  Talmage 
(Brooklyn's  famous  preacher)  sitting  with  some  people 
in  one  of  the  grand  parlors.  I  dine  every  evening  in  full 
dress  as  one  is  expected  to  do,  have  almost  worn  my 
suit  out.  I  have  a  great  deal  to  tell  you  about  friend 

[114] 


from  a  photograph  copyright  by  Curtii  &  Cameron 

CHASE'S  PORTRAIT  OF  WHISTLER,  CHARACTERIZED  BY  THE 
SUBJECT  AS  "A  MONSTROUS  LAMPOON." 


IN  LONDON  WITH  WHISTLER 

Whistler  when  I  get  home.  Things  "  (he  adds  darkly) 
"that  I  think  are  better  said  than  written.  He  con- 
tinues to  be  a  constant  source  of  amusement.  .  .  .  You 
said  in  your  last  letter  that  Minnie  and  Jennie  thought 
of  going  to  the  city  for  a  while.  Did  they  go?  Please 
give  them  my  love.  I  hope  I  shall  hear  from  you  soon. 

"Yours,  "WiLL." 

Chase's  account  of  the  painting  of  the  portraits  con- 
tinues amusingly: 

"He  had  his  way  with  respect  to  the  portraits  too, 
I  discovered.  It  was  arranged  that  whichever  was  specially 
in  the  mood  was  to  paint  while  the  other  posed.  Whistler, 
I  speedily  found,  was  always  'specially  in  the  mood/ 
and  as  a  consequence  I  began  posing  at  once  and  con- 
tinued to  pose.  He  proved  to  be  a  veritable  tyrant,  paint- 
ing every  day  on  into  the  twilight,  while  my  limbs  ached 
with  weariness  and  my  head  swam  dizzily.  'Don't  move ! 
Don't  move!'  he  would  scream  whenever  I  started  to 
rest  a  twitching  muscle,  or,  'Not  yet!  Not  yet!'  when 
my  protests  became  indignant. 

"At  length  I  resorted  to  subterfuges.  He  rarely  re- 
membered his  dinner  engagements;  so  I  took  pains  to 
keep  the  dates  in  mind,  and  when  it  was  time  to  stop, 
to  remind  him  of  them. 

[115] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

"'What?'  he  would  invariably  reply.  'Interrupt  doing 
a  beautiful  thing  like  this  for  a  vulgar  dinner!" 

While  Chase  was  in  London,  Blum,  Ulrich,  and  Du- 
veneck  were  in  Venice.  Blum  writes  to  Chase  from  there 
commenting  upon  his  meeting  with  Whistler,  not  for- 
getting to  include  one  of  his  favorite  jokes,  the  assump- 
tion that  the  entirely  Anglo-Saxon  Chase  was  a  He- 
brew, and  that  his  particularly  regular  nose  was  Hebraic 
in  contour.  The  fact  that  Blum  himself  was  a  Hebrew 
adds  an  odd  turn  to  his  jest. 

"I  was  tickled  to  hear  that  you  met  Whistler  in  such 
a  splendid  fashion  and  more  so  at  your  luck  in  having 
your  'picter  tuk.'  By  the  way  tell  him  to  SPARE  THE 
NOSE.  I  hope  you  will  find  a  good  summer's  work  await- 
ing you  in  Zandvoort  and  be  sure  to  act  kindly  by  the 
natives.  DON'T  GET  MAD.  I  understand  that  this  sum- 
mer JEWS  will  not  be  allowed  on  the  beach. 

"P.  S.  I  shall  stay  all  summer  and  most  likely  all 
through  the  winter.  Ulrich  has  commenced  a  stunning 
thing  of  the  glass  blowers.  He  sends  regards. 

"Yours,  "Bos." 

"Write  soon. 
"Happy  thought 

write  sooner.  Rico  is  in  town.  Lives 

next  door  to  us." 
[116] 


IN  LONDON  WITH  WHISTLER 

Chase,  however  wrathful  at  the  moment,  never  really 
lost  his  sense  of  humor  where  Whistler  was  concerned. 
His  reminiscences  of  that  summer  continue  with  enter- 
taining anecdote  and  occasional  analysis: 

"At  one  home  he  arrived  at  a  dinner  party  at  least 
two  hours  late.  *  How  extraordinary ! '  he  exclaimed,  glar- 
ing fiercely  at  the  gaping  guests  and  the  hostess.  'Really, 
I  should  think  you  could  have  waited  a  bit.  Why,  you're 
just  like  a  lot  of  pigs  with  your  eating.' 

"When  the  portrait  was  finished  he  stood  off  and 
admired  his  work.  *  Beautiful !'  he  exclaimed.  *  Beautiful !' 
I  was  in  no  mood  at  the  time  for  the  retort  courteous. 
'At  least,  Whistler,'  said  I,  'there's  nothing  mean  or 
modest  about  you.' 

"He  grinned.  'Nothing  mean  and  modest,'  he  cor- 
rected. 'I  like  that  better.  Nothing  mean  and  modest. 
What  a  splendid  epitaph  that  would  make  for  me.  Stop 
a  moment;  I  must  put  that  down,'  and  he  reached  hastily 
for  his  note-book. 

"He  was  forever  jotting  down  his  sayings.  No  more 
faithful  Boswell — of  himself — ever  lived.  What  prompted 
him?  Was  it  his  abnormal  conceit,  or  only  the  deter- 
mination that  at  least  when  he  passed  away  he  should 
be  understood  and  appreciated?  Undoubtedly  both.  His 
was  a  bitter  struggle,  remember.  The  critics  were  con- 

[117] 


stantly  scorning  him,  and  a  good  measure  of  the  harsh 
judgment  and  galling  neglect  he  suffered  came  from 
his  own  countrymen. 

"As  for  his  conceit,  it  was  self-evident.  At  times  he 
was  most  childish  about  it.  'What  a  lot  you'll  have  to 
tell  about  me,  Colonel,  when  you  go  back!'  he  said  one 
day. 

"'No,'  I  replied;  'for  you've  done  nothing,  said  noth- 
ing, new.  You're  the  greatest  disappointment  of  my  life.' 

"How  terrible  you  are!'  he  exclaimed.  'You  are 
watching  me!' 

"It  was  good  to  get  even  with  him  in  repartee.  It  was 
rarely  possible;  he  was  as  quick  as  a  flash  with  his  wit, 
and  stronger  than  others  sometimes  in  a  brutal  and  un- 
fair way.  It  was  his  delight  to  pick  up  an  innocent  re- 
mark and  turn  it  back  upon  the  speaker,  or  else  twist 
it  about  so  as  to  make  his  adversary  appear  ridiculous. 
This  he  did  with  his  severest  critic,  the  art  editor  of  the 
London  Times,  taking  from  his  articles  a  single  sentence 
and,  by  isolating  it,  making  it  seem  nonsensical  in  every 
way. 

"The  studio  was  frequented  much  by  a  literary  light 
of  those  days  who,  it  was  generally  known,  fed  upon 
Whistler's  epigrams,  and  retailed  them  as  his  own.  Ev- 
erybody knows  the  painter's  famous  repartee  at  the  ex- 

[118] 


IN  LONDON  WITH  WHISTLER 

pense  of  this  man.  'Oh,  Whistler,'  he  sighed  one  day, 
after  a  particularly  brilliant  sally  from  the  latter,  'why 
didn't  I  say  that?' 

"Never  mind,'  said  Whistler,  stingingly;  'you  will.' 

"There  was  a  steady  stream  of  creditors  at  the  King 
Street  studio  in  those  days.  Whistler  made  no  effort  to 
conceal  the  fact  that  he  was  deeply  in  debt.  One  day 
as  we  were  busily  and  silently  working  there  came  a 
loud,  businesslike  rap  at  the  door.  Whistler  listened  at- 
tentively as  one  might  to  a  key  of  music. 

"'Psst!'  said  he,  'that's  one  and  ten.' 

"Within  half  an  hour  there  was  another  rap,  not 
quite  so  loud. 

'"Two  and  six,'  said  Whistler.  'Psst!' 
r'What  on  earth  do  you  mean?'  I  asked  after  a  time. 

"'One  pound,  ten  shillings;  two  pounds,  six  shillings. 
Vulgar  tradesmen  with  their  bills,  Colonel.  They  want 
payment.  Ah,  well ! '  he  sighed  with  an  exaggerated  air 
of  sadness  and  returned  to  his  canvas. 

"Then  came  another  knock,  a  most  gentle,  insinuat- 
ing rap. 

"Dear  me,'  said  Whistler,  'that  must  be  all  of  twenty  ! 
Poor  fellow,  I  really  must  do  something  for  him  !  So  sorry 
I'm  not  in.' 

"I  could  not  take  the  situation  so  placidly,  and  seized 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

eagerly  the  first  opportunity  of  financial  aid  that  pre- 
sented itself.  A  rich  American,  sojourning  in  London, 
asked  me  what  he  should  purchase  and  take  back  with 
him  from  the  metropolis  in  the  way  of  art. 

"'By  all  means  get  a  set  of  Whistler's  etchings.  Un- 
questionably he  will  make  for  you  a  selection.  I'll  speak 
to  him,'  I  told  him,  and  hurried  back  with  the  good 
news. 

"Whistler  was  delighted,  and  for  a  day  worked  busily, 
overhauling  and  sorting  his  proofs.  The  selection  was 
a  splendid  one,  and  called  for  a  substantial  payment. 
It  was  arranged  that  Whistler  should  meet  the  pur- 
chaser at  a  bank  in  Queen  Street  the  following  morning 
and  receive  his  check. 

"Most  men,  under  the  circumstances  would  have 
thought  of  little  else;  but  by  the  next  morning  Whistler 
had  wholly  forgotten  his  engagement.  He  had  begun  a 
new  canvas,  and  was  completely  absorbed  in  it.  For  a 
while  I  expostulated  in  vain. 

"'Come,  Whistler,'  I  said  finally,  'you  have  been 
away  from  America  so  long  that  you  don't  appreciate 
the  value  of  time  to  the  traveler,  particularly  the  Amer- 
ican traveler.  You  must  not  keep  the  man  waiting.' 

"'Very  well,'  said  he,  laying  down  his  brushes  with 
a  sigh.  'Now  we'll  go.' 


IN  LONDON  WITH  WHISTLER 

"'Why  we?'  I  replied.  'I  don't  want  to  go/  I  pro- 
tested firmly.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  looking  forward 
with  a  great  deal  of  comfort  to  a  morning  all  to  myself. 

"Oh,  but  you  must,'  he  said  calmly,  bringing  my  coat 
and  hat;  and  presently  we  stood  in  front  of  the  house 
signaling  a  cab. 

"One  came  up  readily  enough,  but,  after  one  scru- 
tinizing look  upon  the  *  cabby's'  part,  drove  swiftly  by; 
another  went  through  the  same  strange  proceeding.  I 
looked  questioningly  at  Whistler — this  odd  circum- 
stance had  happened  before  when  we  were  together — 
but  Whistler  was  calmly  signaling.  At  length  a  cabby 
took  us  in. 

"Whistler  always  carried  as  a  walking-stick  a  long, 
slender  wand,  a  sort  of  a  mahlstick,  nearly  three  quarters 
his  own  height.  We  were  no  sooner  seated  than  he  began 
poking  his  stick  at  the  horse's  hind-quarters.  The  animal 
reared,  plunged  wildly,  and  started  down  the  street  at 
a  breakneck  gallop,  while  the  astonished  cabby  swore 
freely  and  tugged  desperately  at  the  reins.  Whistler 
looked  calmly  ahead,  and  kept  poking. 

"Butcher-boys  and  grocer-boys  made  wild  leaps  for 
safety;  outraged  cabbies  whipped  their  horses  out  of 
the  way  just  in  time,  burly  draymen  bawled  curses  after 
us,  and  still  we  went  merrily  on.  Little  wonder,  thought 

[121] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

I,  in  the  midst  of  my  amazement  and  resentment,  that 
Whistler  never  gets  the  same  cab  twice. 

"Suddenly  he  began  waving  his  cane  and  screaming 
'  Whoa ! '  He  took  the  astonished  cabby  severely  to  task 
for  driving  so  fast  upon  the  public  highway,  and  ordered 
him  back  to  a  corner  we  had  just  passed. 

"Here  a  greengrocer's  shop,  with  its  orderly  and 
colorful  array  of  fruits  and  vegetables,  had  caught  Whist- 
ler's eye  as  we  whirled  by.  He  surveyed  it  critically  now 
from  two  different  positions,  the  cabby  meekly  obeying 
his  orders,  under  the  belief,  I  presume,  that  it  was  policy 
to  humor  an  insane  person. 

"Isn't  it  beautiful!'  exclaimed  Whistler.  He  pointed 
his  long  cane  at  one  corner.  *I  believe  I'll  have  that 
crate  of  oranges  moved  over  there — against  that  back- 
ground of  green.  Yes,  that's  better,'  he  added  con- 
tentedly. 

"We  drove  on  to  the  bank,  where  we  found  the  Amer- 
ican pacing  up  and  down  in  no  pleasant  frame  of  mind; 
but  Whistler  soon  had  him  pacified,  and  we  left  him 
waving  and  smiling  adieus  at  us. 

"The  incident  at  the  greengrocer's  shop  reads  like 
an  arrant  affectation.  It  was  not,  however.  Whistler,  as 
usual,  was  merely  most  natural.  The  following  morning 
he  posted  his  easel  at  the  corner  and  painted  the  shop. 

[ 


IN  LONDON  WITH  WHISTLER 

"Whistler's  unconventionality  was  consistently  main- 
tained. It  was  part  of  his  pose,  of  course.  He  knew  that 
it  puzzled  people  and  made  him  talked  about.  Once  at 
a  dinner-party  at  which  I  was  present  he  appeared  with- 
out a  tie.  As  soon  as  I  noticed  the  omission  I  hurried  up 
to  him.  'Oh,  Whistler/  I  exclaimed  in  a  warning  under- 
tone, 'you've  forgotten  something — your  tie,  man,  your 
tie!' 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!'  he  retorted.  'Would  you 
spoil  fine  linen — these  lines,' — he  pointed  to  his  collar 
and  shirt-front, — 'this  harmony,  with  a  flimsy  bit  of 
lawn  ? ' 

"It  was  his  custom  when  drowsy  to  go  deliberately 
to  sleep,  no  matter  where  or  what  the  circumstances 
might  be.  At  one  dinner-party  his  gentle  snore  suddenly 
aroused  his  neighbor,  who  nudged  him  violently  with 
his  elbow.  'I  say,  Whistler,'  he  protested  excitedly,  "'you 
must  not  sleep  here ! ' 

"Leave  me  alone!'  snapped  Whistler.  Tve  said  all 
I  wanted  to.  I've  no  interest  at  all  in  what  you  and 
your  friends  have  to  say.' 

"One  evening  he  was  my  guest  at  dinner  at  a  hotel; 
Edwin  A.  Abbey  was  also  there.  Right  after  dinner 
Whistler  went  calmly  to  sleep ;  on  the  way  to  the  theatre 
he  enjoyed  another  nap  in  the  cab,  and  he  slumbered 

[  123] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

peacefully  through  the  greater  part  of  the  play.  The 
next  morning  he  blandly  asked  me:  'What  did  Abbey 
have  to  say  last  night?  Anything  worth  while?' 

''There  were  two  distinct  sides  to  Whistler,  each  one 
of  which  he  made  famous.  He  succeeded  as  few  ever 
have  in  creating  two  distinct  and  striking  personali- 
ties, almost  as  unlike  as  the  storied  Dr.  Jekyll  and  Mr. 
Hyde.  One  was  Whistler  in  public — the  fop,  the  cynic, 
the  brilliant,  flippant,  vain,  and  careless  idler;  the  other 
was  Whistler  of  the  studio — the  earnest,  tireless,  sombre 
worker,  a  very  slave  to  his  art,  a  bitter  foe  to  all  pre- 
tense and  sham,  an  embodiment  of  simplicity  almost 
to  the  point  of  diffidence,  an  incarnation  of  earnestness 
and  sincerity  of  purpose. 

"The  Whistler  of  Cheyne  Walk  was  a  dainty,  sprightly 
little  man,  immaculate  in  spotless  linen  and  perfect- 
fitting  broadcloth.  He  wore  yellow  gloves  and  carried 
his  wand  poised  lightly  in  his  hand.  He  seemed  inor- 
dinately proud  of  his  small  feet  and  slender  waist;  his 
slight  imperial  and  black  mustache  were  carefully  waxed ; 
his  monocle  was  indispensable. 

"For  all  who  crossed  his  path  he  was  ready  with 
cutting  speech.  That  apparently  was  his  business  in 
life — to  amuse  himself  at  the  expense  of  others;  and  in 
this  form  of  entertainment  he  spared  no  one's  feelings 

[124] 


IN  LONDON  WITH  WHISTLER 

and  stopped  at  no  extremes.  He  took  no  one  and  nothing 
seriously;  he  was  sublimely  egotistical,  and  seemed  to 
delight  in  parading  his  conceit.  He  was  trivial,  careless, 
brilliantly  and  smilingly  disagreeable. 

"Now  view  Whistler  behind  the  scenes.  He  had  pre- 
pared his  outward  blandishments  with  the  skill  and 
patience  of  an  accomplished  actor.  For  hours  he  had 
stood  before  a  mirror,  with  curling-irons  in  hand,  train- 
ing carefully  his  hair,  in  particular  that  famous  white 
lock,  fussing  and  primping  like  a  woman.  He  was  putting 
on  his  mask.  A  most  clever  mask  it  was,  most  cleverly 
sustained.  Very  few  who  knew  him  only  in  public  ever 
saw  behind  it,  and  then  they  saw  only  the  man's  attitude, 
which  said:  'You've  never  taken  me  seriously;  why 
should  I  be  serious  with  you?  You  have  never  spared 
my  feelings;  why  should  I  spare  yours?  You  are  cease- 
lessly sending  your  darts  of  scorn  and  criticism  at  me; 
now,  I  am  returning  them.'  And  so  he  did  in  full 
measure. 

"This  was  merely  Whistler  at  play.  The  real,  genuine 
Whistler  had  been  at  work  since  early  morning,  work- 
ing like  a  fiend — and,  in  truth,  looking  like  a  fiend  as 
he  worked.  The  monocle  of  the  night  before  had  been 
laid  aside  for  an  unsightly  pair  of  iron  spectacles,  so 
heavy  that  they  were  clumsily  wrapped  with  cloth  where 

[125] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

they  rested  on  his  nose.  His  hair  was  uncombed;  he  was 
carelessly  dressed. 

"Some  student  admirers  from  Venice  called  at  the 
studio  one  day  and  found  the  real  Whistler  at  work. 
They  had  seen  him  previously  on  the  piazza,  carefully 
groomed  for  the  occasion.  Now  they  stood  speechless 
with  surprise.  At  length  their  spokesman  exclaimed 
artlessly,  'Why,  Mr.  Whistler,  whatever  has  happened 
to  you  !  ' 

"What  do  you  mean?'  he  demanded. 
'You  —  you  seem  so  different,'  said  the  young  man. 

"Oh/  said  Whistler,  'I  leave  all  gimcracks  outside 
the  door.' 

"Among  those  who  knew  him  well,  Whistler  made 
no  pretense  at  concealing  the  fact  that  his  public  life 
was  a  deliberate  pose.  At  home  he  doffed  his  mask  com- 
pletely. Why,  then,  the  question  naturally  arises,  should 
he  bring  home  with  him  his  quarrelsome  spirit?  Why 
did  he  choose  also  to  war  with  his  friends? 

"I  have  spoken  of  his  ceaseless,  earnest  toil.  He  was 
the  greatest  putterer  I  have  ever  known.  He  had  been 
a  poor  student,  and  had  little  schooling  in  art.  In  con- 
sequence, he  had  to  dig  diligently  for  everything  he  got. 
It  must  measure  up,  too,  to  his'high,  self  -elected  stand- 
ards. So,  whatever  it  was,  a  harmony  of  color  or  of  con- 


IN   LONDON  WITH  WHISTLER 

tour,  it  was  necessarily  best  when  he  got  it.  In  con- 
sequence, there  is  not  a  mediocre  touch  in  all  his  work; 
neither  is  there  any  semblance  of  the  academic.  It  is 
all  absolutely  original  and  thoroughly  distinctive.  His 
art  is  the  unaffected  expression  of  his  convictions  and 
impressions  of  the  world  about  him,  and  these  impres- 
sions were  worth  recording. 

"Of  detail  and  construction  he  knew  little  and  cared 
less.  He  would  produce  a  great  portrait;  you  might  know 
that,  but  you  could  not  feel  certain  that  he  would  get 
his  subject  upon  his  feet.  Inanimate  objects — a  boat, 
a  building — he  chose  to  depict  not  as  they  actually  were, 
but  as  they  appeared  to  him. 

"Many  of  Whistler's  well-known  sayings  and  doings 
have  been  misinterpreted,  sometimes  to  his  credit,  some- 
times not.  His  answer  to  the  lady  who  coupled  him  with 
Velasquez  as  the  world's  two  greatest  painters — 'Why 
drag  in  Velasquez?' — has  been  generally  taken  as  a 
striking  evidence  of  either  outrageous  conceit  or  down- 
right flippancy.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  was  neither.  'Did 
you  ever  really  mean  this,  Whistler?'  I  asked  him  one 
day. 

"'No;  of  course  not,'  he  replied  seriously.  'You  don't 
suppose  I  couple  myself  with  Velasquez,  do  you  ?  I  simply 
wanted  to  take  her  down  a  bit,  that's  all.'  It  was  simply 

[  127] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

his  way  of  checking  flattery  so  fulsome  as  to  be  irritat- 
ing." 

Whistler  never  spared  his  Satanic  wit  where  the  Phi- 
listine was  concerned.  Chase  always  enjoyed  retailing 
that  question  of  his  about  the  supposedly  beautiful 
homes  of  the  newly  rich  in  America.  "But  isn't  there 
always  some  damned  little  thing  on  the  mantel  that 
gives  the  whole  thing  away?" 

Chase  also  recalled  that  light  and  characteristic  bit 
of  vengeance  wreaked  upon  the  architect  of  the  Tite 
Street  house  by  Whistler. 

"This  was  the  house  which  the  architect  E.  R.  God- 
win built  for  him,  and  which  was  seized  for  his  debts. 
When  Whistler  moved  out,  he  left  this  inscription  upon 
the  walls:  'Except  the  Lord  build  the  house,  they  labor 
in  vain  who  build  it.  E.  R.  Godwin  built  this  one.' 

"While  the  bailiff  was  in  possession,  Whistler  seized 
the  opportunity  to  invite  several  of  his  friends  to  an 
elaborate  luncheon  at  which  the  bailiff  officiated  as 
butler.  His  subversion  of  the  situation  in  this  way  is 
generally  cited  as  an  evidence  of  his  remarkable  powers 
of  persuasion.  I  am  not  discounting  this  faculty  of  his 
in  any  way.  The  man's  power  was  wonderful;  he  could 
be,  if  he  chose,  a  very  octopus,  wrapping  one  with  subtle 
but  forceful  tentacles  of  suavity,  agreeableness,  at- 

[128] 


IN  LONDON  WITH  WHISTLER 

tractiveness.  But  a  London  bailiff  was  not  of  the  fine 
caliber  to  be  responsive  to  Whistler's  cajolery.  The  fact 
of  the  matter  is,  I  verily  believe,  that  he  simply  tipped 
the  man  to  delay  proceedings  and  act  meanwhile  in  the 
capacity  of  a  servant.  In  other  words,  he  deliberately 
plotted  the  whole  affair  for  purposes  of  show. 

"I  might  cite  in  confirmation  the  following  instance, 
the  facts  of  which  I  know  to  be  true.  Once  he  invited 
a  distinguished  American  artist  whom  he  had  met  casually 
during  the  day  to  dine  with  him  that  evening.  Arrived 
at  his  club,  Whistler  left  his  guest  waiting  outside  in 
the  cab  while  he  went  in  to  ascertain  if  they  'had  any- 
thing decent  to  eat.'  He  appeared  shortly  with  a  grimace 
of  disgust.  'Nothing  worth  while  here,'  he  said.  'We'll 
try  another.'  The  second  club  was  also  lacking  in 
an  attractive  menu;  nothing  in  it  appealed  to  his  fas- 
tidious palate,  he  averred.  'Oh,  well,'  he  said  finally, 
with  an  air  of  resignation,  'we'll  go  home  and  try  pot- 
luck.' 

"Arrived  at  his  house,  he  ushered  his  guest  carelessly 
into  the  dining-room,  where  a  sumptuous  repast  was 
served  upon  a  table  brilliantly  lighted  and  most  ar- 
tistically decorated.  Of  course  Whistler  had  had  all  these 
elaborate  preparations  made  in  advance. 

"Sir  John  Millais  met  him  outside  his  studio  one 

[129] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

day,  and  after  a  brief  conversation  said  cordially:  'Jimmy, 
why  don't  you  paint  more  pictures  ?  Put  out  more  can- 
vases.' 

"Whistler,  with  a  meaning  look  and  carefully  placed 
emphasis,  replied:  *I  know  better.' 

"The  fool!'  he  muttered  as  he  came  into  the  studio. 
'He  spreads  himself  on  canvas  on  every  possible  occa- 
sion— and,  do  you  know,  he  called  me  "Jimmy"!  Mind 
you,  I  don't  know  the  fellow  well  at  all ! " 

The  rapier  of  Whistler's  wit  was  always  ready  for  the 
academician  be  he  never  so  harmless.  Chase  was  fond 
of  repeating  Whistler's  remark  to  the  gushing  young 
woman  who  sat  next  to  him  at  dinner  bent  upon  eulogy 
of  Sir  Frederick  Leigh  ton — "You  know  he  is  such  a 
clever  man — an  astronomer,  a  sculptor,  a  linguist,  an 
orator — "  At  which  point  Whistler  interrupted  with 

false  enthusiasm:  "Oh,  yes,  and  you  know  he  paints, 
±.nr. »> 

Chase  believed  that  Whistler's  discourtesies  were 
deliberately  affected;  "even  his  epigrams  were  occasion- 
ally prepared  in  advance,  and  stored  up  in  memory  to 
be  ready  for  a  suitable  occasion.  His  spontaneous  re- 
torts were  his  best. 

"A  well-meaning  friend  came  to  him  enthusiastically 
one  day  to  tell  him  of  a  pretty  spot  near  London  that 

[130] 


IN  LONDON  WITH  WHISTLER 

would  be  just  the  place  for  him  to  sojourn  in  and  paint. 
'I'm  sure  you'll  like  it,'  he  said  confidently. 

" My  dear  fellow/  said  Whistler,  'the  very  fact  that 
you  like  it  is  proof  that  it's  nothing  for  me.'  However, 
he  did  go  there,  and  was  greatly  pleased  with  his  sur- 
roundings. He  arrived  safe  himself,  but  his  canvases 
were  delayed  in  transit,  and  for  one  full  afternoon  he 
trotted  back  and  forth  between  the  hotel  and  the  station, 
fretting  and  threatening,  making  life  miserable  for  the 
railway  guards  and  for  every  one  else  about  him.  As 
usual,  he  was  the  centre  of  commotion.  'Look  out,  Whist- 
ler,' I  warned  him,  'or  they'll  find  out  who  you  are.' 
He  scowled  at  me  in  return. 

"Seeing  that  I  knew  him,  the  station-master  came 
up  to  me.  'Who  is  that  quarrelsome  little  man?'  he 
asked  with  an  aggressive  look.  'He's  really  most  dis- 
agreeable.' 

"'Whistler,'  I  replied  apathetically,  'the  celebrated 
artist.' 

"'Oh,'  said  he,  changing  his  expression  instantly  to 
one  of  deep  humility  and  solicitude.  He  approached 
Whistler  with  profuse  apologies.  'I'm  very  sorry,  sir, 
about  your  canvases,'  he  said.  'Are  they  so  very  val- 
uable?' 

"'Not  yet,'  screamed  Whistler;  'not  yet.' 

[131] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

"Another  of  his  well-known  spontaneous  retorts  was 
his  reply  to  the  English  miss,  a  pupil  of  his,  who  greeted 
him  effusively  one  morning  with:  'Oh,  Mr.  Whistler, 
coming  in  on  the  train  this  morning  the  country-side 
was  shrouded  with  a  beautiful,  soft  haze;  and  everywhere 
I  looked  I  seemed  to  see  in  the  landscape  one  of  your 
charming  paintings.5 

"  'Yes,  yes,'  said  Whistler,  with  exaggerated  pom- 
posity; 'nature's  creeping  up  !  She's  creeping  up !' 

"As  my  stay  in  London  drew  near  its  end,  our  quarrel- 
ing increased,  try  as  I  would  to  avoid  it.  'Don't !  Don't !' 
I  cried  out  in  desperation  one  day.  'At  least  let  me 
carry  away  a  pleasant  last  impression  of  you.' 

"His  answer  I  have  always  remembered,  since  it  in- 
dicated, if  only  indirectly,  that  he  thought  of  me  as  a 
friend.  'You  don't  seem  to  understand,'  he  grumbled. 
'It  is  commonplace,  not  to  say  vulgar,  to  quarrel  with 
your  enemies.  Quarrel  with  your  friends,'  he  advised 
fiercely;  'that's  the  thing  to  do.  Now  be  good.' 

''After  all,  Colonel,'  said  he  one  day,  'the  only  real 
objection  I  have  to  you  is  that  you  teach.  You're  just 
like  all  these  others — this  vulgar  crowd.'  He  waved  his 
hand  at  the  others  present.  The  occasion  was  one  of 
his  'Sunday  breakfasts.' 

"It  was  on  my  lips  to  reply,  'Why,  you  teach  too, 

[  132] 


IN  LONDON  WITH  WHISTLER 

in  your  own  way,  and  your  own  ideals.'  Later  he  be- 
came a  professed  teacher,  opening  an  atelier  in  the  rue 
du  Bac,  Paris.  Two  former  students  of  mine  entered 
his  school,  and  when  questioned  by  Whistler  as  to  their 
previous  teacher  gave  my  name.  'Ah,'  said  he,  graciously, 
'you  could  not  have  done  better.'  A  third  student 
replied  that  he  had  had  no  teacher  at  all.  'H-m-m,' 
said  Whistler,  loudly,  'you  really  could  not  have  done 
better/ 

"Another  student  of  mine  who  had  become  an  enthu- 
siastic impressionist  began  a  study  doing  a  purple,  pea- 
green,  and  orange  kind  of  thing.  'Mercy!'  screamed 
Whistler,  as  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  canvas.  'Whatever 
are  you  trying  to  do  ? ' 

;  'Painting  nature,'  she  replied  calmly,  'as  I  see  it. 
Am  I  not  right?  Should  not  one  paint  nature  as  one 
sees  it  ? ' 

"'Yes,  yes,'  said  Whistler,  'so  long  as  you  do  not 
see  it  as  you  paint  it.' 

"My  stay  in  London  had  been  so  protracted  that  I 
determined  to  go  directly  back  to  America,  taking  the 
boat  at  Antwerp.  'Come  to  Holland  with  me,'  I  suggested 
to  Whistler. 

:  'Perhaps,'  he  replied.  'What  inducements  have  you?' 
'The  old  masters,'  I  suggested.  'You've  seen  them 

[133] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

often;  but,   then,  it's  different  with  you.    You'll  take 
delight  in  seeing  them  over  and  over  again.' 

'You're  right,'  said  he,  'sometimes  you  are.  But  they'll 
keep.  What  else?' 

'Our  delightful  companionship,'  I  suggested.  It 
was  difficult  not  to  be  vindictive.  'Should  we  not  pro- 
long it?' 

:  'Oh,  you'll  keep,  too,'  he  answered  lightly. 

'Well,  there's  the  international  exhibit  at  Antwerp 
—new  pictures  by  Bastien-Lepage,  Stevens,  and  others 
which  you  ought  to  see.' 

"At  the  last  moment  he  decided  to  go,  and  we  hastily 
booked  our  passage.  It  was  too  late  to  secure  a  state- 
room together,  a  hardship  to  which  I  was  resigned.  The 
night  was  stormy,  and  knowing  how  bad  a  sailor  Whis- 
tler was,  I  hastened  to  his  state-room  in  the  morning  to 
look  him  up.  He  was  gone,  and  in  his  place  I  found  an 
Englishman  who  wore  an  expression  of  deeply  wounded 
dignity.  'I  say,'  said  he,  in  an  aggrieved  tone,  'are  you 
not  a  friend  of  that  little  antediluvian  who  occupied 
the  berth  above  me  last  night?  Do  you  know,  sir,  that 
he  had  his  foot  in  my  face  every  five  minutes  all  night 
long.  I  say,  you  know;  he  really  must  be  somebody  to 
behave  in  such  an  extraordinary  fashion.  Who  is  he?' 
"I  told  him.  'Oh,'  he  replied,  and  tbere  was  a  wealth 

[134] 


IN  LONDON  WITH  WHISTLER 

of  understanding  in  his  tone.  'I  wonder,'  he  asked  eagerly, 
'if  I  could  meet  him.' 

"Neither  Whistler  nor  I  was  in  the  best  of  humor 
at  breakfast,  and  driving  out  from  the  hotel,  I  deter- 
mined, if  possible,  to  go  through  the  exhibit  alone.  Ar- 
rived at  the  gallery,  I  decided  firmly  upon  this  course. 
He  had  already  adopted  the  exasperating  habit  he  had 
of  shifting  to  my  shoulders  the  entire  responsibility  for 
the  enjoyment  of  our  trip.  'Now,'  said  he,  looking  sneer- 
ingly  about  the  gallery,  *  where  are  your  Bastiens?' 

"  'There's  one,'  I  replied,  'over  there — his  portrait  of 
his  brother.  But,  if  you  please,  I  prefer  to  see  it  alone.' 

:'Eh!'  he  cried.  'What's  this?  You  ask  me  to  come 
over  here  with  you,  and  then  you  adopt  this  attitude  ?' 

"  'Yes,'  said  I,  'for  I  don't  mind  telling  you — I'll 
pay  you  this  compliment — you  have  the  ability  to  say 
in  a  single  word  that  which  I  don't  care  to  hear  about 
these  pictures.' 

"  'Come,  then,  you  must  hear  that  word !'  he  snapped. 
He  dragged  me  up  before  the  portrait,  and  shot  out  his 
finger  accusingly  at  it.  'School !'  he  hissed.  Later,  stand- 
ing before  a  painting  by  Stevens,  an  admirable  piece  of 
work,  he  pointed  his  skinny  little  finger  at  a  bit  of  de- 
tail away  up  in  one  corner  of  the  canvas,  and  said,  'There  ! 
One  might  not  mind  to  have  done  that!' 

[135] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

"The  end  of  a  most  unhappy  day  found  us  in  a  rail- 
way-carriage traveling  on  to  Amsterdam,  huddled  up 
in  opposite  corners,  and  glaring  fiercely  at  each  other. 
In  the  same  compartment  sat  two  Germans  who  kept 
up  steadily  a  loud  and  joyous  conversation.  To  me  it 
was  most  interesting  and  in  no  way  annoying;  but  Whis- 
tler, who  affected  a  dislike  for  Germans,  was  fidgeting 
with  evident  irritation. 

*  Colonel/  he  began  presently  in  a  shrill,   rasping 
voice,  'the  good  Lord  made  one  serious  mistake.' 

'What  is  it  now?'  I  snapped. 

'When  He  made  Germans.' 

"I  have  lived  six  years  of  my  life  in  Germany,  and  I 
am  fond  of  the  Germans. 

1  'It's  a  great  pity,  Whistler,'  I  replied,  'that  you 
don't  understand  German.  It  would  profit  you  greatly 
to  listen  to  the  talk.' 

"He  grinned  spitefully  at  this,  and,  turning,  answered 
me  fluently  and  at  some  length  in  German !  And  now  he 
became  very  voluble,  earnestly  seeking  for  new  topics  of 
conversation,  and  diligently  expressing  his  views  in 
German.  A  gadfly  could  not  have  been  more  persistently 
and  maliciously  annoying.  Human  nature  could  stand  it 
no  longer,  and  at  length  I  revolted.  I  was  deadly  in  ear- 
nest when  I  said:  'Whistler,  I  will  not^go  on  to  Amster- 

[136] 


IN  LONDON  WITH  WHISTLER 

dam  with  you.  Frankly,  I  don't  care  to  be  responsible  for 
what  might  happen.  The  next  station  is  Haarlem,  and 
one  of  us  must  get  out  there.  If  you  wish  to,  I  can  direct 
you  to  a  good  hotel  where  they'll  put  you  up  with  a 

good  room  and  bath;  or  I'll  get  out ' 

'Yes,  Colonel,'  said  he  sweetly,  in  German;  'you  get 
out.'  And  so  I  did,  with  a  feeling  of  utmost  relief  and 
thorough  contentment.  As  the  train  moved  out  of  the 
Haarlem  station  and  left  me  standing  knee-deep  in  my 
luggage  on  the  platform,  he  poked  his  head  out  of  the 
window  and  screamed  back,  still  in  German:  'A  pleasant 
night  to  you,  Colonel !  To-morrow — to-morrow  you'll 
find  out  that  what  I  said  about  the  Germans  is  true.' 

"I  saw  Whistler  only  once  after  this — on  the  following 
day,  in  Amsterdam.  At  the  hotel  in  Haarlem  I  found  the 
cards  of  some  young  artists  from  Brussels  who  were  ex- 
pecting my  arrival.  They  were  ardent  young  revolution- 
ists in  art,  and  when  they  learned  that  Whistler — the 
great  Whistler — was  in  Amsterdam,  only  twenty  miles 
away,  their  voices  arose  in  loud  acclaim.  Could  they  be 
presented  to  him?  Would  I  perform  the  ceremony?  My 
resentment,  as  usual,  had  cooled  somewhat  overnight 
and  I  agreed. 

"At  his  Amsterdam  hotel  Whistler  kept  us  waiting  for 
a  full  half-hour.  I  said  nothing  to  disturb  their  devotion, 

[  1371 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

but  I  knew  well  what  the  great  Whistler  was  doing.  He 
was  standing  before  a  mirror,  curling-irons  in  hand,  add- 
ing endless  touches  to  his  hair,  white  lock,  and  mustache, 
or  ironing  out  wrinkles  in  his  face. 

"Ah,  he  came  at  last  with  mincing  step  and  monocle 
set — the  dainty,  dapper  Whistler  of  Cheyne  Walk, 
Whistler  with  all  his  'gimcracks'  on,  Whistler  on  parade, 
the  flippant,  enigmatical,  cynical,  caustic  Whistler  of  the 
world.  And  as  he  stood  before  his  hero-worshipers  and 
heard  their  murmur  of  irrepressible  adoration,  he  half 
averted  his  face  toward  me  and  behind  his  handkerchief 
passed  me  a  deliberate,  meaning  wink ! 

"Yes,  there  were  two  distinct  Whistlers,  but  there  was 
only  one  genuine  one — Whistler  the  tireless,  slavish 
worker,  ceaselessly  puttering,  endlessly  striving  to  add 
to  art  the  beautiful  harmonies,  the  rare  interpretations 
that  his  wonderful  imagination  pictured  for  him;  Whistler 
the  great  artist,  in  other  words,  for  that  was  his  real  self, 
which  will  live  in  all  its  glory  when  the  man's  eccentric- 
ities are  utterly  forgotten." 


[138] 


CHAPTER  XII 
CONCERNING  THE  CHASE-WHISTLER  PORTRAITS 

THE  fate  of  Whistler's  portrait  of  Chase  is  still 
shrouded  in  mystery.  It  has  been  said  that  Whistler 
destroyed  it,  which  is  probable  if  he  was  not  satisfied 
with  his  work,  but  not  otherwise.  Chase  insisted  upon 
taking  his  portrait  of  Whistler  back  to  America  with 
him,  wisely  foreseeing  that  if  he  did  not  do  so  he  might 
never  regain  possession  of  it,  but  he  was  never  able  to 
get  hold  of  his  own.  Whistler,  as  shown  in  the  letter 
quoted  below,  returned  the  sum  that  Chase  had  paid 
for  it. 

Evidently  Whistler  did  not  regard  Chase's  present- 
ment of  him  as  flattering,  for  in  "The  Gentle  Art  of  Mak- 
ing Enemies"  he  remarks  characteristically:  "How  dared 
he  (Chase)  do  this  wicked  thing — and  I  who  was  charming 
made  him  beautiful  on  canvas,  the  Masher  of  the  Ave- 
nues!" 

Upon  the  subject  of  the  portraits  Chase  had  the  fol- 
lowing letter  from  Whistler  before  he  left  London.  It 
is  interesting  because,  in  addition  to  its  characteristic 
flavor,  it  shows  a  certain  serious  vein  of  appreciation  of 
Chase's  kindliness: 

[139] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

"Mr  VERY  DEAR  CHASE, 

"You  are  by  this  time  of  course  convinced  that  I  have 
sponged  with  my  wonted  facility  all  traces  of  the  past  few 
weeks  from  my  memory,  and  that  the  colonel  and  his 
kindliness  and  good  companionship  have  all  ceased  to 
exist  for  me ! — 

"No !  Noo  NOO — Your  stay  here  was  charming  for 
me  and  it  is  with  a  sort  of  self-reproach  that  I  think  of 
the  impression  of  intolerance  and  disputatiousness  you 
must  carry  as  characteristic  of  my  own  gentle  self — which 
also  I  suppose  it  will  be  hopeless  for  me  to  attempt  to 
efface  by  even  the  mildest  behavior  when  I  return  your 
visit  in  New  York.  Our  little  trip  to  Holland  was  charm- 
ing and  I  only  wish  I  could  have  stayed  longer.  Indeed 
if  I  had  but  gone  with  you  to  the  gallery  in  Haarlem  I 
might  have  done  something  toward  rehabilitating  myself 
in  your  eyes  for  I  had  meant  to  be  quite  sweet  about 
the  pictures  as  after  all  *  there  is  nothing  mean  or  modest 
about  me' — My  dear  Chase  this  is  really  quite  perfect ! 
I  have  never  been  so  daintily  appreciated  and  I  shall  in- 
sist upon  the  insertion  of  this  resume  of  Whistler's  rare 
qualities  in  the  biography  of  that  great  painter  a  century 
or  two  hence. 

"Meanwhile  our  two  pictures.  By  the  way  the  world 
will  have  to  wait,  for  yet  a  little  whije  longer.  You  see 

[140] 


THE  CHASE-WHISTLER  PORTRAITS 

colonel  we  rather  handicapped  each  other  I  fancy  and 
neither  master  is  really  quite  fit  for  public  presentation 
as  he  stands  on  canvas  at  this  moment.  So  we  must  re- 
serve them,  screening  them  from  the  eye  of  jealous  mor- 
tals on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  until  they  burst  upon 
the  painters  in  the  swagger  of  completeness. 

"This  is  a  disappointment,  though  only  a  temporary 
one,  to  me  most  certainly  so  far  as  your  portrait  goes  for 
I  should  have  liked  you  to  have  taken  it  over  with  you 
and  shown  it  on  your  arrival.  But  in  these  matters  I 
never  deceive  myself  and  I  saw  at  once  on  my  return 
from  abroad  that  the  work  is  not  in  its  perfect  condition 
and  Whistler  cannot  allow  any  canvas  stamped  with  the 
butterfly  to  leave  his  studio  until  he  is  thoroughly  satis- 
fied with  it  himself.  Therefore  my  dear  Colonel  I  shall 
keep  the  picture  here  and  bring  it  over  with  me  to  finish 
in  your  studio  where  again  I  will  prove  to  you  that  my 
long  suffering  is  equal  to  your  own  as  I  stand  in  my  turn 
till  you  finish  the  'pendant* — my  artless  self.  Under  the 
circumstances  I  send  you  back  the  thirty  pounds  you 
had  given  me  on  your  portrait — trust  me  it  is  better  so 
— it  would  only  make  me  nervous  and  unhappy  were  I 
to  keep  it  before  my  work  pleased  me.  While  I  shall  be 
delighted  to  take  it  from  you  over  there  when  I  have 
done  well — 'as  it  is  my  wont.' 

[141] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

"I  am  also  awfully  sorry  that  'the  boys'  in  New  York 
are  not  to  see  your  impression  of  Whistler  with  his  wand 
before  I  come  myself — but  what  will  you  !  The  center  of 
thought  is  the  stomach  and  we  were  too  far  from  well— 
poisoned!! 

"And  now  I  must  thank  you  again  for  the  delicacy 
and  good  feeling  you  have  shown  about  the  other  pic- 
tures at  Graves — It  was  so  nice  and  kind  of  you  to  leave 
it  entirely  to  me  to  think  out — whereas  any  one  else 
might  have  taken  the  occasion  of  the  pictures  being  for 
the  time  out  of  my  possession  to  obtain  them  simply— 

without  consulting  me  at  all. 

i 

"You  will  quite  sympathize  with  me  I  am  sure  when 
I  find  upon  reflection  that  I  would  like  to  get  back  those 
things  for  myself.  This  I  really  always  hoped  to  do- 
but  lately  I  was  so  absorbed  by  your  picture  that  I  could 
not  think  well  of  anything  else.  However  now  if  you 
will  when  I  come  to  America  I  will  try  and  bring  you 
something  else  that  you  will  like  quite  as  well — indeed 
better. 

"Meanwhile  again  I  return  the  money  forty  pounds. 

"I  have  consulted  my  bankers  who  think  that  the 
best  way  of  convoying  to  you  the  sum  of  money  is  letters 
of  credit  on  some  bank  in  New  York.  I  told  them  you 
would  not  wish  a  lot  of  Dutch  metal  upon  which  you 

[ 


THE  CHASE-WHISTLER  PORTRAITS 

would  lose  so  they  have  given  me  for  you  a  letter  of 
credit  for  seventy  pounds.  This  I  enclose. 

"Also  the  paper  from  the  American  consul  freeing  you 
of  all  duty  on  account  of  the  etchings. 

"For  Heaven's  sake  my  dear  Colonel  write  me  at  once 
to  say  that  you  have  received  all  this  safely  or  I  shall 
writhe  in  uncertainty. 

"Bon  voyage  my  dear  Chase.  Write  me  word  of  your 
safe  arrival  in  the  delightful  country  you  say  the  other 
one  is  and  expect  me  soon. 

"Always  devotedly" 

[Here  the  letter  is  signed  with  the  butterfly.] 

"Never  wrote  such  a  long  letter  to  anyone. 

"I  have  taken  out  the  papers  from  the  U.  S.  Con- 
sulate to  the  amount  of  160  pounds  for  I  have  forgotten 
the  exact  sum  you  paid  me — but  this  is  near  enough. 
Anyhow  you  have  the  receipt." 

The  pictures  referred  to  by  Whistler  as  being  "for  the 
time  out  of  his  possession"  were,  according  to  Mr.  Al- 
gernon Graves,  the  Carlyle  portrait,  that  of  Whistler's 
mother,  also  those  of  Miss  Franklin  and  Henry  Irving, 
the  two  nocturnes  which  figured  in  the  Ruskin  trial, 
and  a  Battersea  in  a  Fog.  These  pictures  had  been 
taken  to  Graves  by  Whistler's  friend  Charles  Howells  as 

[143] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

security  for  a  loan,  and  Whistler  up  to  the  time  under 
discussion  had  been  unable  to  recover  them.  Chase,  with 
characteristic  generosity,  had  given  Whistler  a  check  for 
the  purpose  of  regaining  the  Carlyle,  and  although  he 
longed  indescribably  to  own  the  picture,  left  the  dis- 
position of  the  matter  entirely  to  Whistler.  Whistler,  as 
the  letter  shows,  while  appreciating  Chase's  generosity 
and  fine  feeling,  preferred  to  return  the  money  he  offered 
and  wait  for  the  opportunity  to  regain  possession  of  his 
canvas  himself.  After  Ho  wells 's  death  Whistler  made 
Graves  a  deposit  on  the  Carlyle  and  finally  bought  it 
back,  afterward  selling  it  to  the  Glasgow  museum. 
Later  he  secured  the  portrait  of  his  mother  and  the  noc- 
turnes. The  others  remained  in  Graves's  possession  and 
were  subsequently  sold  by  him. 

Whistler  took  an  immediate  fancy  to  the  tall  flat- 
brimmed  hat  made  famous  by  Chase. 

Mortimer  Menpes  remembers  how  Whistler  exclaimed 
at  first  sight  of  it:  "Ah,  that's  very  good,  very  good  in- 
deed. I  like  that,"  and  soon  afterward  abandoned  his 
much-described  white  hat  in  favor  of  it.  Having  honored 
Chase  by  adopting  his  head-gear,  Whistler  used  after- 
ward to  inquire  unblushingly  of  visitors  from  America: 
"Is  Chase  still  wearing  my  hat?"  Later  when  the  origi- 
nator of  the  hat  had  incurred  his  enmity  by  quoting 

[  144  ] 


THE  CHASE-WHISTLER  PORTRAITS 

Whistler's  alleged  description  of  Chase's  portrait  of  him — 
"a  monstrous  lampoon" — for  exhibition  purposes,  Whis- 
tler received  the  mention  of  his  old  friend's  name  in  a 
different  but  equally  characteristic  fashion.  "Why,  you 
have  a  hat  like  Chase's,"  a  caller  remarked  one  day. 
Whistler  lifted  his  eyebrows.  "Chase?  Who  is  Chase?" 
he  drawled. 

After  leaving  Whistler,  Chase's  holiday  was  more 
restful.  He  found  his  friend  Walter  Palmer  in  Holland 
and  in  his  society  enjoyed  art  and  art  talk  in  peace. 

When  Chase  returned  to  New  York  that  fall  he  re- 
ceived a  characteristic  letter  from  Blum  in  Venice: 

"Because  Whistler  paints  your  portrait  that  need 
hardly  restrain  you.  7  think  just  as  much  of  you.  I  sup- 
pose you  have  seen  Palmer  by  this  time.  He  did  some 
awfully  nice  things  here.  Rico  is  here.  He  has  the  room 
next  to  mine  and  is  doing  some  charming  things.  I  have 
wasted  almost  all  the  time  I've  been  here  fooling  around 
in  oil.  Tried  some  etching,  but  all  were  failures.  No  water 
colors.  Will  stay  all  winter  and  hope  to  do  something. 
Ulrich  has  done  some  lovely  things  and  Duveneck  has 
under  way  a  large  and  very  good  canvas  of  a  water  stair- 
way with  woman  getting  water. 

"Now  I  come  to  think  of  it  I  know  why  you  won't 

[  145] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

write,  but  I  assure  you  I  was  joking  when  I  said  that 
Jews  weren't  allowed  on  the  beach.  I  wanted  to  say  'in 
the  hotels.' 

"I  like  you  anyhow.  „  BLUM  " 

Later  in  the  year  when  Twachtman  had  joined  the 
painters  in  Venice,  the  two  men  who  were  not  enjoying 
the  raw  Venetian  winter  sent  two  nonsensical  letters  to 
Chase  written  the  same  day  and  containing  caricatures 
of  each  other. 

Blum's  letter  reads: 

"DEAR  CHASEY, 

"Now  I  take  my  pen  in  hand  to  inform  you  that  I  am 
in  good  health  hoping  the  same  of  you.  (Twachtman  sug- 
gests to  say  instead,  'hoping  that  you  are  the  same.') 
The  weather  is  fine  although  it  is  cold  and  chilly  and 
the  fogs  are  the  same.  Piero  at  the  cafe  thinks  there  ought 
to  be  a  change  very  soon.  I  think  the  same.  I  hope  you 
are  well  and  business  good  and  wish  you  a  Happy  New 
Year.  The  Jews  are  all  going  up  to  Holland  next  year.  I 
suppose  you  will  see  them  there.  What  house  are  you 

drumming  for  now?  C is  going.  I  suppose  you  will 

keep  out  of  his  way.  He  says  you  cheated  him  the  last 
time  you  were  here.  (Twachtman  says  the  only  time  you 

[  146] 


THE  CHASE-WHISTLER  PORTRAITS 

were  here.)  Lend  me  your  nose.  I  may  want  to  go  to  Hol- 
land next  summer. 

"We  hope  you  are  in  good  health. 

"Please  answer.  Splendid  weather,  especially  the  wash- 
ing weather  in  the  morning.  I  didn't  get  your  Christmas 
present  yet.  What  is  it  ?  You  ought  to  see  the  hat  Twacht- 
man  wears.  He  has  his  hair  cut  and  looks  like  this  [pic- 
ture]. Don't  you  think  so  too !  What ! 

"What  do  you  think  of  pastels? 

"Hoping  you  are  well  and  in  good  health  I  now  lay 
down  my  pen  telling  you  that  I  am  the  same  and  hoping 
to  hear  from  you  soon  I  remain  your  friend, 

"Bos  BLUM." 

Twachtman's  "companion  piece"  reads  as  follows: 

"DEAR  CHASEY, 

"Now  I  take  my  pen  in  hand  to  inform  you  that  I  am 
well  and  hoping  that  you  are  the  same.  Blum  never  knows 
how  to  commence  a  letter.  The  weather  is  very  fine  al- 
though it  is  cold  and  chilly  with  occasional  rains  and 
fogs.  The  barber  suggests  that  there  should  be  a  change 
very  soon.  Don't  you  think  so  too?  Please  answer.  I  hope 
you  are  in  good  health  with  fair  prospects  for  the  Happy 
New  Year.  Jews  will  not  be  allowed  on  the  Lido  next 
summer,  don't  come !!!!!!!! 

[147] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

"Chase  your  light's  out!!!  Old  C asked  for  your 

address.  We  hope  you  are  in  good  health.  Please  answer. 
The  weather  is  very  fine  and  it  is  snowing. 

"I  saw  your  caricature  the  other  day  and  I  hardly 
notice  the  smallest  change.  I  recognized  you  at  once. 
Shoot  the  hat !  You  ought  to  see  Blum's  hat.  He  is  going 
to  cut  his  hair  and  will  look  like  this.  [Picture.] 

"How  do  you  like  his  beard?  Please  answer. 

"What  do  you  think  of  pastels?  Blum's  got  the 
cholera.  His  hair's  coming  out. 

"Hoping  that  you  are  well  for  I  am  the  same — Write 
soon.  Your  friend, 

"TWATTY." 

About  the  same  time  Blum  writes  an  illustrated  letter 
to  Minnie  Gerson  about  the  beard,  evidently  the  second 
letter  on  the  subject,  the  first  having  enclosed  a  photo- 
graph of  himself  thus  adorned. 

"I  forgot  to  tell  you  not  to  show  it  (the  photograph) 
to  Chase.  However  the  damage  is  done  now  I  suppose, 
so  show  it  to  him  whenever  you  like  or  he  asks  for  it.  I 
have  had  it  cut  (Twachtman  did  it),  I  am  wearing  it  to 
a  point  something  like  Chase's." 

Chase  never  saw  Whistler  again,  but  he  never  per- 
mitted his  enthusiastic  estimate  of  Whistler  the  great 

[148] 


THE  CHASE-WHISTLER  PORTRAITS 

and  sincere  artist  to  be  affected  by  his  occasional 
moods  of  retrospective  exasperation  at  the  man.  Indeed, 
Whistler's  childish  wrath  seemed  only  to  entertain  him, 
and  he  was  fond  of  quoting  that  occasion  when  his  name 
came  up  for  discussion  at  a  dinner-party  and  Whistler's 
sister  remarked:  "Mr.  Chase  amuses  James,  doesn't  he, 
James?"  To  which  James,  tapping  his  finger-tips  to- 
gether, retorted  promptly:  "Not  often,  not  often." 

Chase  also  delighted  in  that  delectable  Whistlerism 
made  in  his  presence  when  the  painter  disposed  of  an 
urgent  patron  who  was  attempting  to  gain  possession  of 
her  portrait:  "Some  people  seem  to  believe  because  they 
have  paid  two  hundred  pounds  for  a  picture  that  they 
own  it." 

Another  remark  of  Whistler's,  profound  under  its  epi- 
grammatic surface,  Chase  used  often  to  quote  to  his 
students;  the  story  of  the  fashionable  woman  engaging 
a  portrait  who  said  to  the  artist:  "And  if  I  don't  like  it 
when  it  is  finished,  Mr.  Whistler,  I  don't  have  to  take 
it,  do  I?"  To  which  Whistler,  with  a  diabolic  gleam  of 
the  eye,  retorted: 

"Ah  no,  madam,  that  is  not  the  case  at  all.  Quite  the 
contrary.  If  I  don't  like  it  you  can't  have  it." 


[  149] 


CHAPTER  XIII 
EVENTFUL  YEARS  IN  ART  AND  LIFE 

EIGHTEEN  HUNDRED  AND  EIGHTY-SIX 
was  the  year  of  Chase's  marriage.  That  circum- 
stance which  can  make  or  mar  an  artist  and  which 
even  in  the  least  influential  case  must  in  some  way 
affect  his  development,  was  a  fortunate  one  for  Chase, 
for  his  wife  then  and  always  complemented  his  life 
and  his  art.  Brought  up  in  intimate  association  with 
art  and  artists,  married  to  an  artist  in  whom  the  impulse 
to  pass  on  his  knowledge  of  the  beauty  he  had  found 
was  irresistible,  Mrs.  Chase  derived  from  and  adapted 
herself  to  her  environment,  and  in  every  way  contrived 
to  create  in  his  home  the  atmosphere  of  art. 

Eighteen  hundred  and  eighty -six  was  also  the  year  of 
Chase's  exhibition  at  the  Boston  Art  Club,  which  was 
something  of  an  event  in  his  artistic  career,  since  at  that 
time  the  one-man  exhibit  so  usual  to-day  was  practically 
unknown. 

It  was  during  this  year  that  he  was  again  elected 
president  of  the  Society  of  American  Artists,  an  office  he 
held  for  nine  years.  They  were  important  years  in  the 
development  of  American  art  and  the  value  of  Chase's 
influence  in  that  position  cannot  be  overestimated. 

[150] 


EVENTFUL  YEARS  IN  ART  AND  LIFE 

Chase  gave  up  his  position  at  The  League  in  1884,  but 
in  the  fall  of  eighty-five  he  went  back  and  continued  to 
teach  there  until  1894. 

The  first  winter  of  their  married  life  the  Chases  lived 
for  a  short  time  in  the  Tenth  Street  Studio  apartment, 
afterward  taking  rooms  on  East  Ninth  Street.  The  next 
year  they  moved  to  Brooklyn,  where  they  lived  for  a 
few  months  with  the  painter's  parents.  It  was  at  this 
period  that  Chase  first  painted  the  Prospect  Park  sketches, 
utilizing  the  small  figure  in  the  formal  park  landscape 
in  a  way  that  was  quite  original.  Any  suggestion  that  he 
may  have  received  from  other  sources  for  these  char- 
acteristic sketches  came  from  the  French  painters,  al- 
though the  canvases  contain  little  more  suggestion  of  the 
French  impressionist's  manner  of  painting  light  and 
sunshine  than  they  do  of  the  dark-toned  Bavarian 
school.  They  are  done  in  a  light  key,  yet  without  any  at- 
tempt to  suggest  atmosphere  or  to  record  any  special 
time  of  day.  The  color  notes — of  a  child's  ribbon  or  gown, 
a  park  bench  or  a  toy  boat — have  not  quite  the  "touch" 
that  distinguishes  the  later  Shinnecock  landscapes,  yet 
they  possess  in  a  marked  degree  that  quality  of  style 
which  Chase  unquestionably  had.  For  the  next  four 
years  the  painter  was  interested  in  these  park  subjects. 
When  he  returned  to  New  York  he  found  motives  of 

[151] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

the  same  sort  in  Central  Park  where  he  often  took  with 
him  Livingston  Platt,  an  early  pupil  whose  decorative 
talent  had  interested  his  master. 

It  was  during  his  stay  in  Brooklyn  that  Chase  painted 
at  Fort  Hamilton  that  fine  and  quiet  little  landscape 
called  Peace. 

A  sale  of  the  painter's  pictures  that  took  place  about 
this  time  was  disappointing  financially,  as  they  went  for 
prices  far  below  those  that  the  painter  usually  com- 
manded, but  it  was  an  interesting  period  in  the  develop- 
ment of  his  art. 

Chase  and  his  wife  moved  rather  frequently  at  that 
time.  From  Brooklyn  they  went  to  an  old  house  in  West 
Fourth  Street,  then  an  attractive  part  of  Greenwich 
Village.  The  following  summer  was  spent  in  Orange;  the 
summer  after  that  they  had  a  cottage  at  Bath  Beach, 
where  Chase  painted  more  interesting  outdoor  subjects 
with  the  figure  in  the  landscape.  It  was  at  this  house 
that  the  painter  came  very  near  being  accidentally  shot 
by  his  young  wife.  In  fact  his  life  was  saved  by  his  then 
famous  Rubens  ring. 

Chase  had  returned  on  a  late  suburban  train  from  a 
dinner  given  by  Stanford  White  and  conceived  the  bril- 
liant idea  of  entering  his  room  through  the  bedroom 
window  instead  of  the  door,  in  order  not  to  awaken  his 

[152] 


EVENTFUL  YEARS  IN  ART  AND  LIFE 

wife.  Mrs.  Chase,  who  had  been  alarmed  by  the  behavior 
of  an  employee  about  the  place,  had  retired  with  a  re- 
volver under  her  pillow.  Hearing  some  one  fumble  with 
the  catch  of  the  blind  at  her  window  she  was  naturally 
very  much  frightened.  The  next  moment  when  a  man's 
hand  appeared  on  the  edge  of  the  shutter  she  assumed 
that  the  expected  intruder  had  arrived,  and  raised  her 
arm  to  shoot  when  by  chance  she  caught  sight  of  the 
man's  ring  and  realized  that  the  housebreaker  was  her 
husband. 

Those  were  interesting  days  in  the  Tenth  Street 
Studio.  The  studio  itself  was  a  thing  quite  unique.  Many 
an  artist  who  remembers  it  as  his  first  impression  of  an 
artistic  studio  has  said  that  in  creating  the  Tenth 
Street  Studio  alone  Chase  did  an  immeasurable  service 
to  art. 

Overcrowded  though  it  may  appear  in  photographs, 
the  painters  who  remember  it  distinctly  say  that  its 
whole  effect  was  one  of  great  beauty  of  tone  and  color. 
Chase's  own  sketches  give  a  more  adequate  idea  of  what 
it  must  have  been  like. 

My  own  memory  of  the  studio,  to  which  I  was  taken 
as  a  child,  was  of  a  vast  darkish  place  containing  beauti- 
ful spots  of  color.  But  despite  its  unlikeness  to  anything 
I  had  seen  before,  the  memory  that  remained  with  me 

[153] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

was  the  extraordinary  kindness  of  the  grown-up  painter 
with  the  Van  Dyck  beard  in  showing  me  his  canvases  as 
if  my  tastes  and  opinions  were  of  real  importance.  Of 
those  pictures  I  remembered  most  distinctly  the  one 
called  Mother  and  Child,  recalling  every  detail  of  the 
composition  and  color  and  the  very  shape  of  the 
baby's  head  against  the  mother's  shoulder.  Seeing  it 
several  years  afterward  for  the  second  time  on  an 
exhibition  wall,  it  held  no  surprises,  it  looked  just  as  I 
had  remembered  it. 

The  studio  was  full  of  beautiful  things  that  Chase  had 
collected.  One  of  his  hobbies  was  clocks.  There  was  one 
Mrs.  Keith  recalls  that  the  artist  wound  with  touching 
fidelity  each  night,  although  the  hands  were  missing,  so 
that  although  it  ticked  with  life  it  informed  not.  Another 
clock  was,  it  seems,  overactive  in  its  time-proclaiming 
quality — embarrassingly  so  upon  one  occasion. 

At  one  of  the  studio  evenings  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin 
gave  an  author's  reading.  While  she  was  in  the  middle  of 
it  this  clock  began  to  strike.  Having  been  purchased, 
like  the  others,  for  beauty  rather  than  practical  value, 
it  continued  to  strike  until  twenty-three  o'clock  had 
sounded,  when  some  one  had  the  presence  of  mind  to 
stop  it.  Mrs.  Wiggin,  in  recalling  the  incident  afterward, 

said:  "And  I  was  so  embarrassed  that  the  onlv  thing  I 

0 

\  1541 


EVENTFUL  YEARS  IN  ART  AND  LIFE 

could  think  of  to  say  was  to  stammer:  *  Really  I  had 
no  idea  it  was  so  late ! ' 

It  was  in  the  winter  of  1890  that  Carmencita  danced 
in  the  Tenth  Street  Studio  before  the  most  distinguished 
audience  in  New  York. 

In  those  days  foreign  "artists"  were  a  novelty  in  New 
York,  where  now  it  is  the  Anglo-Saxon  entertainer  who 
is  the  exception.  But  in  the  eighties  and  nineties  Spanish 
and  Hungarian  dancers,  Russian  actresses,  Continental 
entertainers  of  all  descriptions  had  not  inundated  the 
town.  The  foreigners  who  came  to  New  York  then  were 
not  only  of  a  more  distinguished  and  genuine  type  than 
the  majority  of  those  we  have  here  to-day,  but  they  had 
the  compelling  charm  of  the  "different"  thing,  the  ro- 
mance of  the  unfamiliar.  And  of  all  the  personalities 
clothed  in  that  illusion  the  most  picturesque  seems  to 
have  been  Carmencita. 

The  first  time  that  Carmencita  danced  in  Chase's 
studio  it  was  at  the  instigation  of  Mrs.  Jack  Gardiner. 
She  had  danced  for  a  few  painters  and  friends  of  the 
Beckwiths  in  Carroll  Beckwith's  studio  and  in  the  same 
way  at  Sargent's  studio  in  East  Twenty-third  Street. 
Mrs.  Gardiner,  hearing  of  this,  was  seized  with  the  desire 
to  see  the  famous  dancer  in  the  atmosphere  and  setting 
of  a  studio  instead  of  in  a  public  hall  and  expressed  her 

[155] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

wish  to  Sargent.   Sargent's  subsequent  letter  to  Chase 
shows  how  the  event  came  to  pass. 

"My  DEAR  CHASE, 

"Mrs.  Jack  Gardiner  whom  I  daresay  you  know, 
writes  me  that  she  must  see  the  Carmencita  and  asks  me 
to  write  her  to  dance  for  her  some  day  next  week  and  she 
will  come  up  from  Boston,  but  my  studio  is  impossible. 
The  gas  man  tells  me  that  he  cannot  bring  more  light 
into  the  studio  than  the  two  little  jets  that  are  there. 

"Would  you  be  willing  to  lend  your  studio  for  the  pur- 
pose and  be  our  host  for  Tuesday  night  or  Thursday  of 
next  week  ?  We  would  each  of  us  invite  some  friends  and 
Mrs.  Gardiner  would  provide  the  Carmencita  and  I  the 
supper  and  whatever  other  expenses  there  might  be.  I 
only  venture  to  propose  this  as  I  think  there  is  some 
chance  of  your  enjoying  the  idea  and  because  your 
studio  would  be  such  a  stunning  place.  If  you  don't  like 
the  idea  or  if  it  would  be  a  great  inconvenience  speak  up 
and  pardon  my  cheek !  Send  me  an  answer  by  bearer  if 
you  can,  if  not,  to  the  Clarendon  soon,  as  I  must  write 
to  Mrs.  Gardiner.  Yours  Sincerely, 

"JOHN  SARGENT." 

Carmencita  danced  twice  in  Chase's  studio.  Even  at 
this  remote  day  the  guests  of  the  evening  vividly  recall 

[156] 


EVENTFUL  YEARS  IN  ART  AND  LIFE 

it.  Women  tore  off  their  jewels  to  throw  them  at  the 
singer's  feet — although  it  is  true  that  one  emotional 
lady  returned  the  next  day  to  ask  the  painter  to 
recover  her  gems.  The  kindly  painter  made  an  effort, 
but  the  canny  dancer  shrugged  and  snapped  her  fin- 
gers in  true  Latin  fashion  and  replied  that  she  hadn't 
the  slightest  intention  of  returning  the  impulsive  lady's 
property. 

One  evening  after  the  dancing  Sargent  asked  Car- 
mencita  to  sing  some  Spanish  songs.  For  a  long  time  she 
refused,  saying  that  she  was  a  dancer,  not  a  singer.  But 
Sargent,  who  knew  his  Spain,  kept  insisting  that  she 
must  know  some  gypsy  or  folk  songs,  and  finally  the 
dancer  yielded  and  sang  a  number  of  songs  with  the  wild 
peculiar  rhythm  of  Spanish  music,  and  although  Car- 
mencita,  as  she  had  said,  was  not  a  singer,  the  little  epi- 
sode made  a  vivid  impression  upon  her  hearers. 

But  if  Cannencita  frugally  refused  to  return  the  emo- 
tional lady's  jewels,  she  proved  that  she  was  not  lacking 
in  Spanish  grace  of  feeling,  for  both  times  after  she  had 
danced  she  sent  her  slipper  to  the  painter's  wife  who  was 
unable  to  be  present. 

Rosina  Emrnett  Sherwood,  a  guest  both  evenings, 
thus  describes  Carmencita's  appearance  when  she  danced: 
"Sargent  and  Chase  made  her  rub  the  make-up  off  her 

[157] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

face,  and  brush  her  frizzed  hair  back  from  her  forehead, 
and  she  was  very  beautiful  and  as  natural  as  a  country 
girl  dancing  on  the  grass." 

Chase  and  Sargent  both  painted  portraits  of-  Car- 
mencita  at  this  time.  Chase's  canvas  is  owned  by  the 
Metropolitan  Museum  and  Sargent's  by  the  Luxem- 
bourg. 

The  Lady  in  Black,  one  of  Chase's  fine,  distinguished 
canvases  and  a  portrait  of  one  of  his  pupils,  was  painted 
in  1888  and  presented  to  the  Metropolitan  Museum  in 
1891. 

In  1888  Chase  became  an  Associate  of  the  National 
Academy,  and  in  1890  he  was  made  a  regular  Academi- 
cian. He  had  also  an  exhibition  of  his  pictures  at  Buffalo 
that  winter  which  created  a  great  deal  of  attention.  He 
began  to  teach  at  the  Brooklyn  Art  School  and  painted 
and  exhibited  a  number  of  Central  Park  sketches  of  the 
same  type  as  those  painted  in  Prospect  Park. 

The  Chase  household  made  another  move  in  the  au- 
tumn to  an  apartment  in  East  Fortieth  Street.  That 
year  their  friend  Robert  Blum  went  to  Japan  to  do  some 
illustrating  for  Scribner's.  A  letter  to  Chase  from  Tokio 
contains  some  of  his  first  impressions. 

"...  I  suppose  you  are  waiting  to  hear  me  say  some- 
thing about  Japan.  ...  It  is  the  most  puzzling  experi- 

[158] 


EVENTFUL  YEARS  IN  ART  AND   LIFE 

ence  I  have  ever  had  ...  it  is  simply  a  new  world  where 
life  is  on  another  plane — and  yet  one  where  with  all  its 
strangeness  I  feel  strangely  at  home  through  the  little 
insight  I  had  of  its  art.  But  how  much  clearer  that 
has  become  to  me  already  by  seeing  the  life  that  pro- 
duced it.  .  .  I  never  thought  I  was  so  interesting,  but 
you  know  what  a  great  respect  I  have  for  Japanese 
taste — they  stop  and  look  and  look  and  follow  me  with 
their  earnest  eyes  wherever  I  go  till  I  begin  to  feel  proud 
of  being  so  superior  and  imposing.  But  it  is  rather  em- 
barrassing when  you  want  to  do  all  the  observing  there 
is  to  be  done.  .  .  .  Tell  Cosy  that  I  think  of  her  every  day. 
The  little  girls  remind  me  of  her  every  moment.  .  .  It 
is  amazing  to  watch  these  mites  no  older  than  Cosy 
walking  about  with  a  good  bouncing  baby  tied  to  their 
backs.  They  don't  seem  to  be  as  fretful  as  our  children, 
and  the  way  they  are  coddled  and  loved  does  even  an 
old  bachelor  heart  good 

"I  found  Mr.  Wigmore,  the  man  who  is  to  write  two 
articles  for  Scribner,  very  nice  and  Mrs.  Wigmore  most 
charming,  both  with  that  open  kindliness  that  always 
wins  my  heart.  .  .  This  is  all  I'm  going  to  write  and  it 
will  depend  upon  how  you  treat  me  whether  I  write  you 
again." 

While  Blum  was  in  Japan  Chase's  first  son,  William 

[159] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

Merritt,  was  born.  As  soon  as  the  news  reached  Blum  he 
wrote  to  his  friend,  now  for  the  third  time  a  father. 

"I  congratulate  you  most  heartily,  my  dear  Will,  on 
the  latest  addition  to  the  Chase  family  and  am  tickled 
to  know  that  you  will  now  have  a  chance  to  hand  down 
to  posterity  your  magnificent  whiskers  if  nothing  more ! 
I  received  your  letter  just  before  starting  out  on  a  little 
trip  to  Enoshima,  a  little  village  on  an  island  where  I 
stayed  for  a  week  doing  some  drawings  for  Sir  Edwin 
Arnold's  articles." 

Of  course  Blum  always  had  his  joke  with  the  ever 
good-natured  Chase.  Besides  that  favorite  one  connected 
with  the  painter's  very  regular  nose,  about  which  he 
could  well  afford  to  permit  jokes,  there  was  another 
to  the  effect  that  the  always  sufficiently  thin  Chase  had 
become  fat,  a  condition  he  greatly  disliked  and  of  which 
he  seems  to  have  had  an  unjustifiable  dread.  Blum 
wrote  to  Chase  a  few  days  after  his  last  letter: 

"Yes,  I  suppose  it  does  kind  of  make  a  man  feel  big 
— this  raising  a  family — sort  of  important  like!  I  have 
imagined  what  you  must  look  like  in  these  days  and  I 
think  I've  caught  the  spirit  of  it.  You  must  excuse  de- 
fects in  character  and  resemblance  as  I  haven't  seen  you 
for  some  time  and  suppose  you  have  grown  a  little  stouter. 
So  if  I  had  allowed  an  extra  fifty  pounds  say,  I  would 

[  160  ]  * 


EVENTFUL  YEARS  IN  ART  AND  LIFE 

just  have  hit  it — eh  ?  .  .  .  .  Have  you  thought  yet  what 
you  are  going  to  name  him.  I  suppose  there  is  no  hope 

for  me My  kindest  remembrances  to  Mrs.  C 

and  a  big  big  kiss  for  my  little  sweetheart,  that  is  Cosy 

Chase. 

"You  SINNER!" 


[161] 


CHAPTER  XIV 
AN  END  AND  A  BEGINNING 

THE  next  year,  1891,  saw  the  founding  of  Shinne- 
cock.  Mrs.  Hoyt,  an  amateur  artist,  who  had  a 
summer  home  at  Shinnecock  Hills,  urged  Chase  to 
start  a  summer  school  there.  Mrs.  Henry  Porter,  of 
Pittsburgh,  another  summer  resident,  also  became  in- 
terested in  the  idea.  They  offered  to  give  Chase  the  land 
upon  which  to  build  a  summer  home  for  himself  and  a 
school  studio  as  well.  Chase  went  to  Shinnecock  in  1890, 
was  delighted  with  the  place  and  accepted  their  offer. 
McKim,  Meade,  and  White  began  to  work  on  the  plans 
for  the  Chase  house  and  studio  and  the  next  summer, 
1891,  the  school  studio  was  finished  and  the  class  opened 
to  students. 

That  year  the  Chases  moved  from  the  East  Fortieth 
Street  apartment  and  Chase  gave  way  to  a  singular  de- 
sire to  live  in  Hoboken.  Perhaps  he  had  seen  a  subject 
one  day  passing  through.  Mrs.  Chase  remained  in  Ho- 
boken with  her  three  children  while  Shinnecock  was  in 
the  making.  There  the  first  little  boy  died  and  a  third 
daughter  was  born. 

Blum's  letters  from  Japan  continue  on  the  note  of 
personal  banter  that  only  seemed  to  entertain  Chase. 

[162] 


AN  END  AND  A  BEGINNING 

Referring  to  some  photographs  of  the  Chase  family  sent 
to  him,  Blum  remarks: 

"I  was  more  than  pleased  to  make  the  acquaintance 
of  the  boy.  He's  a  beauty  if  he  isn't  mine.  And  Cosy- 
how  sedate  she  looks !  And  your  wife  with  the  delightful 
hat — how  well  she  looks.  The  photographs  are  all  de- 
lightful— that  is  except  those  of  you — You've  fallen  off 
terribly — so  lank  and  lean.  ...  I  wish  I  had  you  over 
here  I'd  give  you  a  good  licking  for  nothing  in  particular 
but  just  because  I  feel  like  it  and  because  I  think  you 
deserve  it.  ....  But  on  second  thoughts  I  come  to  think 
that  someone  in  New  York  must  have  a  dreadful  spite 
against  you — I  mean  the  man  who  '  did  you '  in  the  paper 

and  made  you  look  like  a  cross  between and  a 

Baxter  street  Jew.  He  is  bound  some  time  to  lay  for  you 
and  do  worse  than  I  would,  so  it's  all  right.  I  am  going 
to  hand  over  to  him  the  job  of  caricaturing  especially  as 
I  notice  that  you  fail  to  appreciate  my  efforts.  Of  course 
I  know  it  is  all  put  on  when  you  ask,  '  Who  these  horrible 
looking  things  are  meant  to  represent' 

"But  joking  aside,  niy  dear  Will,  I  can't  tell  you  how 
appalled  I  was  to  get  a  list  of  the  sale  of  your  pictures" 
[an  unlucky  sale  in  1891  at  which  Mr.  Chase's  pictures 
went  for  prices  far  below  their  normal  value],  "it  wasn't 

[163] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

only  awful  but  shameful.  If  you  can  get  any  comfort 
from  the  fact  I  will  tell  you  that  since  receiving  it  and 
when  I  feel  blue  about  my  work  I  say  to  myself,  'Good 
God,  what  does  it  all  matter  since  nobody  will  care  a  rap 
whether  you  try  or  don't  try '  .  .  .  A  fellow  works  himself 
into  a  sweat  and  after  surmounting  all  kinds  of  obstacles 
sees  that  his  labor  was  thrown  away  after  all.  So  why 
not  take  life  easily  and  give  up  this  damned  driving  after 
something.  .  .  .  God,  I  believe  if  such  a  thing  were  to 
happen  to  me  I  would  give  up  painting.  One  must  be 
pretty  courageous  to  stand  it.  I  can  well  understand  how 
you  feel  about  it  dear  boy  and  what  a  dreadful  shock  it 
must  have  been  at  first.  And  yet  I  know  that  in  spite  of 
all  you  will  keep  on  painting  as  if  nothing  at  all  had  hap- 
pened, and  God  bless  you  for  it. 

"With  lots  of  kisses  for  Cosy  and  Koto  and  William 
Merritt  and  the  kindest  remembrances  to  Mrs.  Chase, 
I  am  as  always,  '  «Yours,  BOB." 

The  next  letter,  written  after  he  had  received  news  of 
the  baby's  death,  shows  the  affectionate  side  of  Blum's 
nature  and  the  sincere  friendship  he  felt  for  Chase. 

"MY  DEAR  WILL,  "NiKKO,  Aug.  27,  1891. 

"The  paper  containing  the  sad  news  of  the  death  of 
your  little  boy  reached  mo  before  I  lefj  Tokyo.  It  would 


AN  END  AND  A  BEGINNING 

be  useless  for  me  to  try  to  tell  you  how  very  sorry  I  feel 
for  your  great  loss.  However  much  I  might  wish  to  say 
it  would  resolve  itself  into  expressions  of  my  heartfelt 
sympathy  for  yourself  and  your  wife  and  of  this  I  know 
you  need  no  assurance.  Although  I  don't  believe  in  time 
being  the  healer  of  all  things  still  I  know  that  it  makes 
us  accustomed  to  the  pain  it  cannot  make  us  forget. 
Please  give  my  kindest  regards  to  Mrs.  Chase  and  the 
deep  sympathy  I  feel  for  her  affliction  and  believe  me 

"Your  loving  friend, 

"Bos." 

In  1892  the  Shinnecock  house  was  finished,  and  the 
Chase  family,  which  now  contained  three  children,  took 
possession  of  it.  That  fall  they  moved  to  a  little  house  in 
West  Eleventh  Street.  Chase  continued  with  his  Brook- 
lyn class,  and  with  his  private  pupils  in  his  own  studio. 
He  painted  the  delightful  picture  of  a  little  girl  known 
as  Alice  in  1893,  and  also  that  same  year  the  Woman  with 
the  White  Shawl.  The  first  is  owned  by  the  Chicago  Art 
Institute  and  the  second  by  the  Pennsylvania  Academy. 

In  1894  he  taught  for  a  month  at  the  Art  Institute  in 
Chicago,  spreading  his  gospel  of  art  still  further. 

Eighteen  hundred  and  ninety-five  was  a  year  of 
change  and  transition.  Chase  gave  up  his  presidency  of 

[165] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

the  Society  of  American  Artists,  discontinued  his  Brook- 
lyn class,  prepared  to  give  up  his  Tenth  Street  Studio, 
and  bought  the  house  on  Stuyvesant  Square  which  re- 
mained his  home  until  his  death. 

For  two  years  Chase  had  been  trying  to  get  that 
house.  Several  years  before  it  had  belonged  to  some 
people  who  were  the  temporary  owners  of  Whistler's 
White  Woman,  and  there  for  the  first  time  Chase  saw 
that  picture.  He  took  a  great  fancy  to  the  fine,  large  old 
house,  partly,  no  doubt,  because  of  this  pleasing  as- 
sociation, and  finally  succeeded  in  getting  possession  of 
it.  In  it  his  sons  Robert  and  Dana  were  born,  also 
his  youngest  daughter,  Mary  Content,  and  his  fifth 
daughter,  Helen. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  characteristic  than  the 
last  scene  of  that  act  of  Chase's  life  which  had  been 
enacted  in  the  Tenth  Street  Studio.  Whistler  might 
have  played  his  part  differently  but  no  more  effectively. 
In  1895  Chase's  financial  affairs  came  to  a  climax.  The 
difficulties  attendant  upon  carrying  on  the  career  of  a 
patron  of  the  arts  on  a  painter's  income  brought  about 
a  climax  which  might  easily  have  been  foreseen  by 
every  one  except  the  chief  actor  in  the  drama.  But  in 
all  emergencies  of  life  the  future  beckoned  to  Chase. 
If  one  chapter  must  be  closed,  an  evqn  more  alluring 

[166] 


From  a  photograph  copyright  by  Detroit  Photographic  Co. 

ALICE. 
Property  of  the  Art  Institute,  Chicago. 


AN  END  AND  A  BEGINNING 

one  opened  on  the  next  page.  If  he  must  be  sold  out 
then  he  must.  He  accepted  that  fact  and  began  to  build 
a  castle  in  Spain.  He  decided  to  give  up  his  New  York 
teaching  and  to  take  his  family  and  some  pupils  to 
Madrid  as  soon  as  his  affairs  were  settled. 

His  students  when  they  heard  the  news  gave  him  a 
loving  cup.  He  gave  them  a  dinner  at  his  house.  Not 
satisfied  with  that  hospitable  festivity,  he  planned  a 
farewell  party  for  his  friends,  a  veritable  banquet.  It 
was  held  in  the  Tenth  Street  Studio  which  was  especially 
decorated  for  the  occasion.  Almost  the  very  plates  from 
which  they  ate  were  carried  away  to  go  under  the  ham- 
mer, but  Chase's  serene  hospitality  lasted  until  an  un- 
usually late  hour — a  courageous  climax,  an  undaunted 
spirit. 

A  few  days  later  he  carried  his  family  away  to  Spain. 
Before  he  left  he  purchased  a  few  rings,  the  nucleus  of 
a  new  collection. 


[167] 


CHAPTER  XV 
SPAIN  AND  THE  CHASE  SCHOOL  OF  ART 

IN  January  1896  Chase  and  his  wife  and  two  of 
his  children,  Dorothy  and  Alice,  usually  known  as 
"Cosy,"  sailed  for  Spain,  where  they  remained  until  the 
following  June.  Chase  took  a  class  with  him,  and  the 
trip  was  a  very  happy  one  for  all  concerned. 

Despite  his  humanity  Chase  enjoyed  the  bull-fights; 
he  also  revelled  in  the  markets,  but  his  greatest  pleasure 
was  the  Prado  Museum.  It  was  during  this  trip  that  he 
made  one  of  his  most  important  Velasquez  copies,  Las 
Meninas,  now  in  the  collection  of  copies  of  old  masters 
by  well-known  artists  got  together  by  Mr.  Nelson  of 
Indianapolis.  The  others,  made  in  1896,  are  still  in  the 
painter's  house. 

One  day  while  Chase  was  working  at  his  copy  of  Las 
Meninas  in  the  museum  two  Spaniards,  picturesquely 
enveloped  in  dark  cloaks,  stopped  to  watch  him.  Mrs. 
Chase,  who  was  with  the  artist,  noticed  that  one  was 
decorated  with  the  Cross  of  Santiago.  When  the  Spanish 
gentlemen  saw  the  copy  they  removed  their  hats,  and 
one  made  a  remark  in  Spanish.  When  they  walked  away 
another  watcher  translated  the  Spanish  nobleman's 

[168] 


SPAIN  AND  THE  CHASE  SCHOOL  OF  ART 

tribute  to  the  masterly  copy:  "Velasquez  lives  again," 
he  had  said. 

This  recalls  a  remark  that  Chase  used  often  to  make 
to  his  class  apropos  of  that  decoration  and  that  picture: 

It  is  told  that  when  King  Philip,  the  patron  of  Velas- 
quez, had  seen  the  completed  picture,  which  contains 
among  the  figures  of  the  group  a  portrait  of  Velasquez 
himself  painting  at  his  easel,  he  turned  to  the  painter 
and  said:  "But  your  picture  is  not  finished."  Velasquez, 
astonished,  asked  the  King  what  he  meant. 

"Wait,  give  me  your  brush,"  replied  Philip.  When  it 
was  handed  to  him  he  painted  the  Cross  of  Santiago 
upon  the  breast  of  Velasquez,  conferring  upon  him  by 
this  act  the  highest  honor  obtainable  by  a  Spanish 
nobleman. 

"But,"  Mr.  Chase  used  to  add,  "I  feel  sure  that 
Velasquez  afterward  painted  out  Philip's  decoration  and 
painted  it  in  again  himself.  It  is  too  well  done." 

Chase  entered  thoroughly  into  the  spirit  of  Spanish 
life,  and  when  his  work  with  his  class  was  over  went  with 
Mrs.  Chase  in  search  of  picturesque  sights  and  impres- 
sions. The  evenings  they  usually  spent  at  the  cafes 
watching  the  gay  pageant  of  the  streets. 

One  evening  returning  from  a  place  in  a  remote  part 
of  Madrid  where  they  had  gone  to  see  some  gypsy  danc- 

[169] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

ing  especially  recommended  by  a  brother  artist,  Chase 
discovered  when  he  came  out  that  he  had  no  small 
change.  Familiar  with  the  ways  of  Latin  cabmen,  he  de- 
cided that  it  would  be  better  to  get  some  before  calling 
a  cab.  The  only  lighted  place  in  sight  was  a  small  wine- 
shop, obviously  not  of  the  sort  that  he  could  take  a 
woman  into;  so,  leaving  his  wife  alone  an  instant  on 
the  street,  he  went  in.  As  he  did  not  come  out  immedi- 
ately, and  as  she  heard  footsteps  approaching  in  the 
darkness,  it  occurred  to  Mrs.  Chase  that  it  might  be 
better  for  her  to  walk  slowly  along  rather  than  seem  to 
be  loitering  alone  upon  the  street  at  midnight.  When 
Chase  finally  emerged  he  was  distracted  to  find  that  his 
wife  was  nowhere  in  sight.  Mrs.  Chase,  having  been  fol- 
lowed by  a  man  in  a  cloak,  had  continued  to  walk  on 
until  she  had  lost  herself.  At  a  late  hour  she  chanced 
upon  the  neighborhood  of  their  pension,  where,  after 
some  difficulties  in  identifying  herself  sufficiently  to  be 
allowed  admittance  by  the  watchman  at  the  locked  outer 
gate,  she  finally  regained  her  room  in  safety,  where  con- 
siderably later  she  was  joined  by  a  frenzied  husband. 

Every  market-day  found  the  painter  and  his  wife  in 
the  crowd,  and  many  of  the  beautiful  things  in  Chase's 
home  and  studio  were  bought  at  that  time. 

Chase  returned  in  June  to  his  Shinne^ock  class,  and 

[170] 


SPAIN  AND  THE  CHASE  SCHOOL  OF  ART 

in  the  fall  of  that  year  he  opened  an  art  school  of  his  own 
called  the  Chase  School  in  a  building  on  the  corner  of 
Fifty-seventh  Street  and  Sixth  Avenue.  He  found  a  suita- 
ble studio  for  himself  in  the  Glaenzer  Building,  now 
torn  down,  on  the  corner  of  Fifth  Avenue  and  Thirtieth 
Street. 

After  two  unprofitable  years  as  owner  and  manager  of 
the  Chase  School,  the  unbusinesslike  Chase  wisely  gave 
up  all  attempt  at  management  and  turned  the  school 
over  to  others,  who  in  1898  changed  the  name  to  the 
New  York  School  of  Art.  He  remained  at  the  head  of 
this  institution  for  eleven  years.  A  little  before  this  he 
had  begun  to  teach  at  the  Pennsylvania  Academy,  going 
over  to  Philadelphia  once  a  week  for  the  purpose.  He 
always  took  great  pride  in  the  high  standard  of  work 
maintained  by  his  Philadelphia  pupils. 

He  continued  teaching  there  until  1909.  During  these 
years  Chase  painted  some  of  his  best  pictures.  The  por- 
trait of  Emil  Paur  was  painted  in  1899,  and  about  1901 
he  painted  the  picture  of  his  two  children,  known  as 
Dorothy  and  Her  Sister,  the  portrait  of  his  daughter  Alice 
called  The  Grey  Kimono,  as  well  as  the  other  known  as 
The  Red  Box. 

From  1896  until  1900  Chase's  summers  were  spent  at 
Shinnecock.  But  in  1900  he  took  a  flying  trip  to  Europe 

[171] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

in  company  with  his  sister-in-law,  Minnie  Gerson,  leav- 
ing her  in  France  with  friends  while  he  made  a  flying  trip 
to  Spain  to  collect  some  of  his  belongings  there. 

Miss  Gerson  recalls  with  amusement  Chase's  idea  of 
a  preventive  of  seasickness,  which  was  to  read  aloud  to 
her  from  George  Moore's  "Talks  on  Art,"  the  topic 
which  he  imagined  to  be  of  all  others  the  most  absorb- 
ing and  diverting  to  the  mind. 

In  the  summer  of  1902  Chase  went  to  London  to  have 
his  portrait  painted  by  Sargent.  For  this  purpose  a  sum 
was  raised  by  his  pupils,  who  made  the  picture  a  gift  to  the 
Metropolitan  Museum  as  a  tribute  to  their  beloved 
master. 

This  portrait,  while  representing  with  Sargent's  cus- 
tomary brilliance  a  superficial  phase  of  Chase,  is  yet  not 
wholly  satisfactory  to  those  who  knew  and  cared  for 
him.  Chase,  however,  enjoyed  Sargent's  virtuosity  so 
much  that  he  apparently  had  no  fault  to  find  with  the 
canvas  as  a  portrait. 

In  a  letter  to  Minnie  Gerson  from  London  he  speaks 
of  it  with  enthusiasm: 

"My  DEAR  MINNIE, 

'There  is  so  much  to  remind  me  of  you  here  and  I 
have  really  missed  you  so  much  that  I  don't  understand 

[172] 


"Z    js 


£  I 

£  * 

—  a 


<£> 


SPAIN  AND  THE  CHASE  SCHOOL  OF  ART 

why  I  have  not  written  to  you  before.  It  is  the  same 
old  London  except  that  there  is  more  board  than  lodg- 
ing here  just  now  (joak). 

"Sargent's  portrait  of  me  is  now  finished.  He  did  it 
in  six  sittings,  and  I  think  you  will  like  it.  My  friends 
here  say  it  is  perfect.  The  painting  is  certainly  beautiful. 
I  shall  be  most  anxious  to  know  how  'Toady'  and  you 
all  will  like  it.  He  has  done  me  as  a  painter  and  they 
say  he  has  caught  my  animation — whatever  that  means. 

Mr.  T and  the  Deweys  are  here  and  have  asked  if 

they  may  go  and  see  it.  I  shall  be  glad  to  get  away  now 
that  the  picture  is  done  as  every  American  I  meet  (and 
there  are  many  of  them)  wants  to  go  to  Sargent's  to  see 
me  on  canvas.  I  am  afraid  it  will  prove  a  nuisance. 

"Sargent  will  most  likely  go  to  America  next  winter. 
We  have  arranged  to  paint  one  another  when  he  is  in 
New  York  again.  Sargent's  exhibit  at  the  Academy  is 
magnificent.  [Three  underlinings.] 

"I  have  been  in  so  many  of  the  same  places  we  visited 
together  and  I  always  think  of  you.  Love  to  Jennie. 

"Bless  you. 

"WiLL." 

That  year  Chase  painted  his  portrait  of  Doctor  Angell, 
the  charming  little  portrait  of  his  daughter  Dorothy  in 

[173] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

a  Mexican  hat,  now  the  property  of  the  St.  Louis  Mu- 
seum; also  his  finely  characterized  portrait  of  Louis 
Windmuller. 

In  the  summer  of  1902  John  Twachtman,  Chase's 
companion  in  Venice  and  Munich,  died,  and  in  the  spring 
of  the  following  year  Chase  was  elected  a  member  of 
the  Ten  American  Painters  in  his  place. 


[174] 


CHAPTER  XVI 
SHINNECOCK 

TO  all  familiar  with  contemporary  American  art  the 
Shinnecock  landscape  must  ever  be  associated  with 
the  name  of  Chase.  To  that  extent  does  the  thing  seen 
with  the  eye  and  recorded  with  the  brush  impose  itself 
upon  the  mind  of  the  beholder. 

"How  terrible  if  nature  were  to  come  to  look  to  you 
like  that,"  Chase  used  to  say  to  the  student  who  pro- 
duced one  of  those  dreary  paraphrases  of  nature  possible 
only  to  ineptness;  but  the  reassuring  side  of  that  psychic 
fact  is  found  in  the  artist's  ability  to  educate  the  layman's 
aesthetic  sense  by  revealing  to  him  some  selected  phase 
of  beauty  in  nature  that  his  own  eye  could  not  have 
discovered  unaided.  In  so  doing,  the  painter  sets  his  pos- 
sessive impress  upon  the  landscape. 

This  thing  William  Chase  did  with  the  sand-hills  of 
Shinnecock.  He  scorned  the  picture  that  told  a  story; 
nevertheless  he  did  more  than  present  a  fine  bit  of  tech- 
nical painting  in  his  Shinnecock  landscapes,  for  he  was 
able  to  lead  the  imagination  over  the  lonely  road  winding 
through  the  sand-dunes  to  the  sea  and  make  one  feel 
the  wide  sweep  of  the  wind  across  the  moors. 

In  the  same  way  he  has  placed  his  children  in  the 

[175] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

Shinnecock  landscape,  pink-ribboned  and  red-capped, 
in  a  perpetual  summer-time.  He  used  to  call  his  oldest 
daughter  "his  red  note"  because,  having  usually  a  touch 
of  red  in  her  costume,  she  was  constantly  called  upon  to 
add  that  accent  to  his  composition. 

Surrounded  by  bay,  sweet-fern  and  vivid  patches  of 
butterfly-weed,  Chase's  house  is  set,  as  it  were,  in  the 
midst  of  one  of  his  own  landscapes,  its  nearest  neighbor 
off  on  a  distant  hilltop.  On  one  side  lies  the  ocean  in  vista, 
on  the  other  Peconic  Bay.  The  water  is  not  near  enough 
to  be  heard  except  in  a  storm;  its  place  is  decorative 
rather  than  intimate.  Indeed,  it  would  seem  as  if  house 
and  studio  must  have  been  designed  to  make  pictures 
from  within,  for  every  window  and  doorway  frames  a 
composition. 

Chase's  studio,  built  a  few  steps  below  the  level  of 
the  house  floor,  is  a  part  of  the  house,  yet  shut  off  from  it 
in  such  a  way  that  intrusion  was  impossible.  There  some 
of  Chase's  best  work  was  done — fish  pictures,  interiors, 
and  kimono  portraits. 

The  sky,  which  so  impresses  itself  upon  the  imagina- 
tion in  those  wide  Shinnecock  spaces,  always  strongly 
compelled  Chase's  painting  impulse.  Some  days  he  spent 
hours  at  his  wide  studio  window  simply  painting  the 
changing  clouds,  veritable  sky  studies. 

[176] 


SHINNECOCK 

The  school  studio,  where  his  criticisms  were  given,  was 
located  about  three  miles  from  the  house.  The  group  of 
small  houses  surrounding  it  was  known  as  the  Art  Vil- 
lage. These  cottages,  designed  by  prominent  architects 
for  a  nominal  sum,  were  occupied  by  Chase's  pupils, 
several  of  them  sometimes  combining  to  rent  one  for  the 
summer.  The  students  came  from  all  over  the  country, 
and  many  painters  now  well  known  were  among  them. 
The  school  grew  to  such  proportions,  however,  enrolling 
some  years  as  many  as  a  hundred  students,  that  many 
of  them  had  to  find  lodgings  in  the  village.  The  school 
building  contained  besides  the  large  room  where  criti- 
cisms were  held,  a  studio  for  indoor  painting  on  rainy 
days  and  a  supply  shop  for  materials. 

Chase  gave  two  criticisms  a  week.  Every  Monday 
morning  the  week's  work  was  taken  to  the  studio  and 
put  up  on  a  special  sort  of  easel  resembling  a  black- 
board, which  held  a  number  of  sketches  at  a  time.  After 
the  criticism  Chase  remained  at  the  studio  until  lunch 
time,  so  that  the  students  could  ask  questions  or  submit 
for  further  criticism  some  sketch  made  the  preceding 
week. 

On  Tuesdays  Chase  went  off  with  the  class  for  the 
entire  day,  a  wise  arrangement,  as  there  could  be  no 
more  stimulating  time  to  put  into  effect  what  had  been 

[177] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

learned  than  after  one  of  his  criticisms,  for  he  always 
made  the  student  feel  that  the  next  time  he  was  going 
to  do  the  best  thing  he  had  ever  painted.  Chase  gave  a 
talk  once  a  month.  He  also  painted  regularly  as  a  lesson 
for  the  class,  a  landscape,  a  head,  or  a  bit  of  still  life. 
Students  were  encouraged  to  ask  questions.  These  were 
written  on  slips  of  paper  and  dropped  in  a  little  box. 
During  his  lectures  and  his  weekly  criticisms  Chase  un- 
dertook to  answer  all  these  faithfully. 

The  students  soon  discovered  that  if  they  chose  a 
subject  along  the  road  leading  from  Chase's  house  to 
Southampton  they  were  sure  of  an  extra  criticism.  Chase 
could  seldom  pass  a  painter  at  work — pupil  or  stranger, 
at  home  or  abroad.  Especially  if  the  unknown  artist 
seemed  poor  and  uninstructed  did  that  generous  soul 
want  to  offer  all  he  had  to  give,  so  beautiful  was  his 
feeling  for  the  thing  that  the  worker  was  struggling, 
however  obscurely,  to  express.  Therefore,  the  pupil 
with  her  back  toward  the  approaching  vehicle,  but  her 
canvas  turned  toward  the  road,  was  sure  sooner  or 
later  to  hear  her  master's  voice:  "Drive  slowly,  please. 
Stop  here  just  a  minute."  Then  words  of  warning  or 
commendation  were  offered.  On  days  when  several 
pupils  were  imbued  with  this  same  happy  thought,  Chase's 
ride  to  the  village  was  rather  a  long  one. 

[178] 


SHINNECOCK 

At  no  other  time  did  Chase  have  greater  occasion  to 
put  into  effect  his  view-point  concerning  the  choice  of  a 
subject  than  during  these  days  at  Shinnecock,  frequently 
holding  up  as  an  example  of  what  not  to  do  the  student 
who  had  walked  miles  over  the  moors  to  find  something 
sufficiently  paintable.  The  pupil  in  question  was  not  al- 
ways pleased  at  being  told  to  paint  the  rail  fence  across 
the  way  instead  of  the  panorama  of  sea  and  sky,  but  if 
she  had  arrived  at  any  real  perception  of  art  in  the 
course  of  her  studies,  she  came  eventually  to  under- 
stand her  master's  purpose. 

Although  Chase  never  lost  sight  of  the  eternal  prin- 
ciples underlying  the  art  of  painting,  and  while  at  that 
peaceful  day  he  could  not  have  foreseen  the  variously 
evoked  nightmares  of  Futurism,  he  had  as  deeply  rooted 
a  hatred  of  conventionality  as  a  sane  painter  could  possi- 
bly have.  Above  all  things,  he  warned  his  students 
against  the  rut,  and  the  danger  of  seeing  things  "in  a 
tiresome  way."  Of  himself  he  said:  "I  have  experimented 
always."  In  order  to  uproot  any  tendency  to  routine  in 
the  minds  of  his  students  he  carried  his  suggestions 
to  them  to  "queer"  their  compositions  to  the  point  of 
arranging  at  intervals  actual  "queering"  contests  in 
which  the  student  was  advised  to  imagine  the  most  un- 
likely seeing  of  his  subject.  To  stimulate  competition, 

[179] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

Chase  offered  one  of  his  own  sketches  as  a  prize  for  the 
best  result.  "And  some  of  them  were  very  queer,"  his 
daughter,  Mrs.  Sullivan,  remarked  pensively,  recalling 
them,  and  yet  we  may  be  sure,  after  all,  very  proper  and 
dignified  arrangements  compared  with  the  compositional 
chaos  of  the  hysterical  hour  now  blessedly  passing.  For 
while  the  erratic  subject  handled  with  real  professional 
knowledge  may  provide  the  mental  fillip  that  Chase 
recommended  for  jaded  seeing,  the  neurotic,  ignorant,  or 
charlatan  production  is  now  disappearing,  as  we  all 
knew  it  must,  into  the  limbo  of  forgotten  things. 

Many  characteristic  comments,  profound,  satirical, 
constructive,  were  made  at  those  Monday  criticisms. 

One  summer  when  a  hectic  wave  of  impressionism 
was  agitating  the  students'  colony,  several  canvases 
were  brought  into  the  Shinnecock  class  showing  lurid 
patches  of  yellow  and  blue.  When  Chase  saw  them  upon 
the  screen  he  began  to  hem  and  hum,  tug  at  the  string 
of  his  glasses,  tap  his  stick  upon  the  floor,  and  twist  his 
moustache.  Finally,  with  a  slight  frown,  he  turned  upon 
the  perpetrator — it  was  seldom  necessary  for  him  to 
ask  his  or  her  name.  "And  it  was  as  yellow  as  that?" 
he  asked. 

"Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Chase.  Really  it  was.  The  sun  was 
right  on  it,  you  know,  and  it  was  very  yellow."  The 

[180] 


SHINNECOCK 

pupil  babbled  on,  imagining  that  she  was  being  very 
convincing. 

"Hm,"  was  Chase's  reply,  after  another  glance.  "And 
September  not  here  yet !  Give  the  goldenrod  a  chance, 
madam.  Give  the  goldenrod  a  chance." 

Howard  Chandler  Christy,  an  early  pupil  of  Chase's 
at  Shinnecock,  recalls  his  master's  reply  to  one  of  those 
serious-minded  muddlers  who  infest  summer  painting 
classes.  The  efforts  of  this  rather  mature  lady  were  par- 
ticularly hopeless,  but  apparently  quite  unaware  of 
limitation  she  looked  up  brightly  at  her  instructor  as  he 
approached:  "There  is  just  one  thing  I  am  worried 
about,  Mr.  Chase.  Will  you  advise  me  about  my  colors  ? 
I'm  afraid  I'm  not  using  the  right  kind.  I'm  afraid  these 
colors  may  fade." 

Chase  bent  a  cold  eye  upon  the  enthusiastic  lady's 
canvas  and,  after  the  familiar  manifestation  of  sounds 
and  movements  recognized  as  a  danger-signal  by  the  ac- 
customed pupil,  he  replied:  "In  your  case,  madam,  the 
very  best  you  can  possibly  use!"  and  passed  on. 

But  Chase  was  always  considerate  of  the  sensitive 
pupil,  talented  or  untalented,  sometimes  giving  a  private 
criticism  after  the  general  discussion  in  order  to  spare  a 
nervous  girl  the  embarrassment  of  public  comment  upon 
her  deficiencies. 

[181] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

He  was,  however,  disturbed  by  the  problem  of  the  in- 
dustrious but  ungifted  pupil.  Pausing  one  day  beside  the 
easel  of  a  young  man  of  this  type,  after  regarding  his  in- 
harmonious and  painstaking  work  with  distaste  for  a 
moment,  he  inquired  in  a  troubled  tone:  "Do  you  really 
like  that  manner  of  painting?" 

The  perplexed  pupil  looked  up.  "Why,  no,  Mr.  Chase, 
I  can't  say  that  I  do." 

"Then  try  some  other  way.    Try  some  other  way." 

Chase's  wit  was  likely  to  emit  sparks  in  contemplation 
of  artistic  futility,  but  it  seemed  inspired  by,  rather  than 
at  the  expense  of,  the  hopeless  pupil.  Christy  remem- 
bers another  case  of  a  boy  quite  devoid  of  talent,  whose 
admiring  family  were  determined  that  he  should  be  an 
artist.  One  day  as  the  master  walked  over  the  sand-dunes 
seeking  out  the  various  pupils  camped  about  in  the 
landscape,  he  came  upon  the  boy  seated  in  a  little  hol- 
low, painting  nothing  in  particular  as  there  was  really 
no  subject  in  sight,  but  industriously  covering  his  canvas 
with  paint  and  whistling  cheerfully — a  sound  that  Chase 
never  enjoyed. 

"Well,  and  how  are  you  getting  on  ?"  he  inquired  with 
perfunctory  pleasantness,  but  we  can  imagine  with  a 
perceptibly  ruffled  brow. 

The  inartistic  youth  looked  up  brigl^ly.  "Fine,  sir, 

[182] 


SHINNECOCK 

fine  !"  he  replied,  full  of  good  spirits  and  his  healthy  igno- 
rance of  art.  The  painter  gave  a  look  at  his  canvas  and 
turned  away. 

"Quite  the  contrary,  I  assure  you,  sir,'*  he  remarked, 
and  without  further  elucidation  passed  on  to  the  next 
disciple. 

For  the  pupil  showing  the  faintest  trace  of  the  gleam 
Chase's  kind  helpfulness  was  always  ready.  But  like 
others  who  have  had  to  overcome  obstacles  and  opposi- 
tion to  their  chosen  career,  he  had  little  patience  with 
the  ungifted  pupil  surfeited  with  opportunity.  For  that 
reason  he  sometimes  made  the  retort  that  seemed  un- 
sympathetic. 

"Consider  nature  as  the  painted  thing,"  was  one  of 
his  suggestions  helpful  to  the  imaginative  student. 
"Paint  a  tree  that  the  birds  could  fly  through,"  was 
another  criticism  of  the  same  rather  cryptic  type.  "Make 
your  sky  look  as  if  we  could  see  through  it,  not  as  if  it 
were  a  flat  surface,"  is  a  little  more  tangible;  and,  "No- 
tice how  the  darkest  spot  outdoors  is  lighter  than  the 
white  window-sill  within,"  is  an  entirely  practical  hint. 

One  afternoon  in  the  week,  usually  Saturday  or  Mon- 
day, Chase's  studio  was  open  to  students,  friends  of 
students,  and,  indeed,  all  of  Southampton,  for  Chase's 
talks  and  receptions  were  one  of  the  features  of  the 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

place,  and  always  all  that  he  knew  or  had  to  give  was  at 
the  disposal  of  the  interested,  whether  it  was  a  brother 
artist,  a  student,  or  the  merest  outsider. 

So  much  did  Southampton  appreciate  the  social  as- 
pects of  the  School  Studio  and  Chase's  talks  that  at  one 
time  it  became  necessary  to  make  clear  the  fact  that  the 
school  was  primarily  for  the  benefit  of  the  art  students. 

Another  Shinnecock  event  that  combined  art  with 
the  social  side  of  things  was  the  Old  Master  Tableaux 
given  by  Chase  and  his  wife  at  the  School  Studio  and  at 
the  houses  of  the  summer  residents. 

These  pictures,  which  were  never  produced  under  more 
fortunate  conditions  than  at  Shinnecock,  had  interested 
Chase  ever  since  his  Munich  days  when  as  has  been  told 
he  used  to  pose  his  model  in  a  frame  in  the  semblance  of 
a  favorite  Van  Dyck  for  an  audience  of  his  fellow  students. 

The  artist's  children  and  his  pupils  usually  posed  for 
the  Shinnecock  tableaux.  Among  the  most  interesting 
experiments  were  the  pictures  arranged  in  sunlight  in  a 
room  in  Mrs.  Porter's  house,  where  a  certain  atmospheric 
effect  of  indoor  light  suggested  possibilities  to  the 
painter's  wife.  Two  of  the  pictures  devised  for  that  oc- 
casion were  especially  successful;  one  hurriedly  arranged 
at  the  last  minute  as  an  eleventh-hour  substitute  was  of 
Mrs.  Chase  posed  as  the  Dagnan-Bouyeret  madonna, 

[184] 


SHINNECOCK 

which  Chase  found  so  much  like  her.  In  her  lap  she  held 
one  of  her  own  babies,  the  mysterious  nimbus  of  light 
around  the  child's  head  created  by  a  concealed  night- 
candle.  The  other  picture  which  so  impressed  the  audi- 
ence was  of  Helen  Chase,  then  a  small  child,  posed  as 
the  Velasquez  Infanta,  an  effect  so  charming  that  Mrs. 
Porter  ordered  a  portrait  of  the  little  girl  painted  in 
that  costume. 

Several  of  the  Chase  children  were  born  at  Shinne- 
cock.  The  fact  was  always  proclaimed  in  Japanese  fash- 
ion, with  a  fish  floating  from  the  housetop.  The  fourth 
daughter,  Hazel,  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  white 
child  born  on  Shinnecock  Hills,  which  were  formerly  oc- 
cupied by  the  Indians.  For  that  reason  the  child  was 
given  an  Indian  middle  name,  Neamaug,  meaning  "be- 
tween two  waters,"  which  perfectly  describes  the  loca- 
tion of  the  Chase  home. 

A  deposit  of  clay  opportunely  placed  by  nature  near 
the  painter's  house  was  much  appreciated  by  the  Chase 
children  who  used  it  for  modelling,  and  enjoyed  also  a 
privilege  that  is  not  the  portion  of  many  children,  for 
both  Chase  and  Blum,  who  often  visited  Chase  at  Shin- 
necock, entertained  themselves  by  making  it  into  archi- 
tectural blocks.  These  were  then  baked  in  the  sun  and 
used  for  the  construction  of  Greek  temples  or  any  imag- 

[185] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

inative  structure  that  happened  to  strike  the  artists' 
fancy  at  the  moment.  A  particularly  successful  building 
was  cemented  together  and  kept  for  a  permanent  play- 
thing. The  men  also  made  serious  experiments  in 
modelling. 

Chase's  mother  was  his  first  guest  in  his  new  home, 
and  her  portrait  was  the  first  thing  he  painted  in  his 
new  studio.  Mrs.  Chase  says  that  as  she  watched  the 
progress  of  her  portrait  she  wondered  why  a  spot  on  the 
top  of  her  head  was  ignored  by  the  painter.  The  next 
day,  after  a  trip  to  town,  he  brought  in  a  dainty  little 
lace  cap  and  told  her  to  put  it  on.  Ever  since  that  day 
she  has  worn  a  cap. 

Chase's  mother  was  anxious  for  any  opportunity  to  do 
her  son  a  personal  service  during  her  visits.  One  day  he 
sent  home  a  pair  of  new  white  trousers  and  remarked  to 
his  wife  in  his  mother's  presence  that  they  were  too  long, 
and  asked  her  to  shorten  them  so  that  he  might  wear  them 
the  following  day.  That  evening  his  wife  remembered  the 
request  and  shortened  the  trousers  according  to  in- 
structions, but  when  the  painter  put  them  on  the  next 
morning  they  proved  to  be  about  knickerbocker  length, 
for  his  devoted  mother  had  taken  her  turn  at  shortening 
them  first ! 

The  Shinnecock  Indians,  a  mixture  €>f  negro  and  In- 

[186] 


CHASE'S  MOTHER. 

The  first  portrait  painted  by  the  artist  in  his  Shinnecock  studio. 


SHINNECOCK 

dian,  played  their  part  in  the  life  of  the  summer  school. 
In  the  beginning  the  students,  like  other  residents  of 
Shinnecock,  were  not  allowed  to  enter  the  reservation 
at  all.  Before  long,  however,  the  tactful  Chase  made  one 
of  the  old  Indians  a  friendly  call  and  obtained  permission 
without  asking  it.  The  students  often  went  there  to  paint 
and  a  number  of  the  Shinnecock  Indians  served  as 
models  both  outdoors  and  in  the  studio.  One  girl  named 
Romaine,  of  whom  Chase  made  a  study,  posed  fre- 
quently for  the  painter  and  his  students.  Chase's  rela- 
tions with  the  Indians  remained  friendly  to  the  last  and 
the  Indians  were  always  interested  in  the  school.  One  of 
the  Shinnecock  students  tells  a  story  of  Chase's  spon- 
taneous generosity  upon  one  occasion  when  he  was 
painting  for  the  class  near  the  reservation  while  a  fair 
was  being  held  for  the  benefit  of  the  Indians.  When  his 
sketch  was  finished  Chase  presented  it  to  the  fair  com- 
mittee to  be  sold  at  auction. 

Although  the  house  was  not  near  enough  to  the  school 
to  permit  of  the  intrusion  of  the  thoughtless,  the  students 
often  enjoyed  the  hospitality  of  the  Chase  household. 
Chase  liked  to  bring  sympathetic  students  home  to  lunch. 
The  day  when,  after  having  carelessly  stated  before 
going  to  his  criticism,  that  he  had  invited  a  student  to 
lunch  and  brought  home  seventeen  was  one  remembered 

[187] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

for  some  time  by  the  painter's  wife,  for  the  nearest  mar- 
ket was  six  miles  away  and  motors  and  telephones  then 
practically  non-existent. 

Nineteen  hundred  and  two  was  the  last  summer  of 
the  art  school,  although  the  Chase  family  continued  to 
spend  their  summers  at  Shinnecock. 

The  Art  Village  is  now  a  popular  and  artistic  summer 
settlement.  Mrs.  Porter,  who  had  so  much  to  do  with 
the  founding  of  the  school  and  had  always  a  heartfelt 
interest  in  its  success,  now  uses  the  School  Studio  as  her 
summer  home,  having  extensively  added  to  and  built 
around  it,  thus  preserving  both  the  room  and  its  asso- 
ciations. 

The  school  was  never  larger  or  more  successful  than 
in  its  last  year  and  every  one  concerned  regretted  Chase's 
decision  to  give  it  up. 

During  the  eleven  years  of  its  existence  a  far-reaching 
influence  had  been  set  in  motion,  for  in  that  time — little 
more  than  a  decade — Shinnecock  had  set  its  impress 
upon  the  landscape  art  of  America. 

The  following  summer  Chase  began  to  hold  his  summer 
classes  in  Europe. 


[188] 


CHAPTER  XVII 
MUNICH  REVISITED 

CHASE'S  contact  with  European  art  and  life,  if 
brief,  was  continuous.  The  story  of  the  summers 
that  he  spent  abroad,  usually  teaching  for  part  of  the 
time,  is  told  in  outline  in  his  letters  to  his  wife  and  the 
other  members  of  the  family,  but  except  for  an  occasional 
sentence  here  and  there  they  do  not  reveal  much  of  his 
personality,  the  charm  of  which  was  not  somehow  com- 
municable through  his  pen. 

The  letters  to  his  wife  are  the  literal  affectionate 
chronicles  of  the  day  rather  than  interesting  comments 
upon  his  experiences.  Even  when  he  speaks  of  the  pic- 
tures he  admired  he  substitutes  emphasis  for  selective 
characterization.  It  is  true  that  this  was  also  his  way, 
although  to  a  less  extent,  when  he  talked  about  art;  but 
in  talking  the  personality  of  the  man,  his  enthusiasm, 
a  certain  dramatic  gift  of  implication  that  he  had,  made 
his  hearers  feel  that  they  felt  the  thing  that  had  impressed 
him  in  a  canvas,  although  "a  beautiful  thing,  a  wonder- 
ful thing"  was  generally  the  extent  of  his  comment. 
And  so  in  his  letters  he  used  a  system  of  underlinings, 
one,  two,  three,  and  even  four,  to  indicate  the  degree  of 

[189] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

his  enthusiasm  or  admiration  rather  than  the  descriptive 
adjective. 

In  the  summer  of  1903  Chase  went  to  Holland,  where 
he  held  his  first  European  summer  class.  His  daily  let- 
ters to  Mrs.  Chase  at  this  time  give  a  faithful  account 
of  his  doings.  As  was  his  invariable  habit,  he  first  visited 
London  and  Paris,  but  before  he  proceeded  on  to  Hol- 
land he  revisited  Munich  for  the  first  and  only  time  since 
his  student  days. 

Writing  from  London  in  June  to  Mrs.  Chase,  he  tells 
of  going  with  a  Mr.  Howard,  an  American  artist  living 
in  London,  to  a  sale  of  pictures  and  art  objects. 

"I  bid  on  two  pictures,"  he  remarks,  "but  did  not  get 
them.  I  did  get  however  a  small  statuette  in  china  of 
Benjamin  Franklin  with  Washington's  name  lettered  on 
the  base,  a  rather  interesting  piece.  Three  shillings  is  all 
I  had  to  give  for  it." 

A  guilty  consciousness  of  his  almost  uncontrollable 
spending  impulse  causes  him  to  add: 

"You  must  congratulate  me  by  the  way — I  haven't 
yet  bought  a  single  ring!  After  the  sale  I  went  to  Mr. 
Howard's  studio.  Some  people  came  in  for  five  o'clock 
tea,  among  them  Mrs.  Meyer  whom  Sargent  painted. 
She  asked  Mr.  Howard  and  me  to  take  lunch  at  their 
house  to-morrow  and  see  the  Sargent  portrait  and  other 

[190] 


MUNICH  REVISITED 

pictures.  .  .  .  After  dinner  I  went  to  a  house  in  Co  vent 
Garden  where  I  was  asked  to  drop  in  any  time  between 
ten  and  twelve.  I  found  a  very  large  dinner  party  in  the 
most  magnificent  house  I  have  ever  been  in,  filled  with 
fine  old  masters.  I  arrived  a  few  minutes  before  the 
gentlemen  joined  the  ladies  when  we  went  up  and  saw 
an  assemblage  of  the  most  magnificently  gowned  and 
bejeweled  lot  of  ladies  ALL  smoking  cigarettes.  Three 
of  the  ladies  are  Americans  who  have  married  titled 
lords  or  earls.  There  was  music  and  a  bridge  whist  game 
later.  I  did  not  stay  very  long.  It  is  now  twelve  o'clock 
and  I  will  go  to  bed.  So  much  excitement  is  likely  to 
keep  me  awake  for  a  while.  I'll  think  only  of  you  and 
the  children  if  I  am.  Bless  you,  I  love  you.  Kisses  to  the 

chicks.  Goodnight. 

"Love.  WILL." 

The  next  letter  describes  his  second  day. 

"Early  this  morning  I  called  on  La  very  and  after 
called  on  Brangwyn.  At  one  o'clock  went  to  lunch  at 

Lady   M 's,    another   fine   house,   lots   of   pictures, 

servants  and  all.  The  luncheon  was  pleasant.  If  I  stayed 
long  enough  here  I  would  find  myself  introduced  to  all 
the  swells.  One  gratifying  thing  about  it  all  is  that  they 
all  seem  to  know  about  me.  This  afternoon  I  went  to  the 

[191] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

National  Gallery  and  tonight  I  had  Kennedy  to  dine 
with  me.  Afterwards  we  went  to  the  hippodrome  and 
saw  a  fine  performance.  ...  It  is  now  eleven  thirty.  I 
find  on  consulting  my  watch  that  it  is  five  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  with  you,  and  I  am  imagining  you  packing 
for  Shinnecock  with  Roland  holding  on  to  you. 

"I  got  a  letter  from  you  this  morning  which  was 
written  the  day  before  I  sailed.  I  shall  hope  to  find  more 
letters  in  Paris.  How  I  wish  you  were  all  with  me.  God 

bless  you  and  our  dear  children. 

"Love. 

"WiLL." 

A  few  days  later  he  writes  from  Paris: 

"This  morning  I  went  to  the  Salon.  .  .  .  Only  a  few 
really  good  pictures.  Tomorrow  I  shall  go  at  once  to 
Munroe's  hoping  to  get  letters  from  you.  I  suppose  you 
will  go  down  to  Shinnecock  tomorrow.  I  dream  about 
you  and  the  children  very  often.  I  find  on  consulting  my 
watch  that  you  are  probably  having  lunch  now  at  home. 
I  am  wondering  if  you  went  to  Shinnecock  today.  I 
watch  my  watch  and  have  reckoned  the  time  you  would 
take  a  train." 

In  his  next  letter  he  alludes  to  the  death  of  his  friend 
Robert  Blum. 

"I  got  yours  and  Dorothy's  letter  this  afternoon.  I 

[192] 


PORTRAIT  OK  ROBERT  BUM   BY  CHASE. 


MUNICH  REVISITED 

had  already  heard  of  Blum's  death.  Isn't  it  awful?  I 
lunched  with  Knoedler  and  Alexander  Harrison  today. 
Harrison  told  me  of  Blum's  death.  I  can't  get  it  out  of 
my  head.  Was  he  sick  long?  Just  think  of  his  being  no 
more.  I  am  afraid  he  did  not  take  good  care  of  himself 
for  a  long  time  back." 

Further  on  he  relates  with  the  evident  expectation  of 
being  commended:  "I  have  not  bought  anything  as  yet 
although  I  have  seen  some  tempting  rings." 

In  another  letter  from  Paris  he  inquires:  "How  is  our 
baby  getting  along  ?  Does  he  walk  yet  ?  I  am  so  glad  you 
gave  me  the  photographs  of  the  children.  I  would  like 
some  more  when  you  can  send  them.  I  haven't  any  very 
satisfactory  ones  of  you  or  Cosy.  It  is  still  raining  and 
so  cold.  The  boulevards  are  dismal  and  deserted.  .  .  . 
Bless  you,  sweetheart,  I  wish  you  were  with  me.  .  .  . 

"Tell  Dorothy  and  Cosy  that  I  will  write  to  them 
soon." 

He  mentions  in  the  course  of  his  next  letter  that  he  is 
proud  of  himself  because  he  "has  not  bought  a  single 
trinket,"  which  shows  that  he  at  least  made  some  at- 
tempt to  restrain  his  purchasing  vagaries.  From  Munich 
his  first  letter  reveals  the  frequent  grievance  of  the 
traveller  who  asks  information  not  dealing  with  France 
from  French  officials. 

[193] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

"Well  darling  here  I  am.  Owing  to  a  stupid  French- 
man's putting  me  on  the  wrong  train  I  reached  here  at 
three  P.  M.,  instead  of  ten  A.  M.  When  I  reached  Ulm, 
a  city  about  three  hours  from  here,  I  decided  to  stop 
and  see  what  the  place  was  like,  it  looks  so  picturesque 
from  the  train.  I  was  well  repaid  for  the  hour's  stop. 
I  sent  you  post-cards  from  there.  I  found  when  I  reached 
here  that  my  trunk  and  hat-box  had  been  held  at  the 
frontier  because  I  was  not  there  to  open  them  for  inspec- 
tion." 

Chase  was  in  the  habit  of  blandly  leaving  all  customs 
transactions  to  his  travelling  companion;  in  this  case  he 
did  not  have  one.  He  continues  with  his  impressions  of 
Munich: 

"I  have  been  looking  Munich  over  and  find  much  of 
it  so  changed  that  I  do  not  recognize  the  place.  I  am 
astounded  at  the  beauty  of  the  city.  It  is  simply  mag- 
nificent." [Three  underlinings.]  "I  did  not  run  across 
any  of  my  friends  this  afternoon.  I  am  in  a  hotel  di- 
rectly opposite  a  place  where  Shirlaw  and  I  lived  for 
several  years.  The  hotel  is  now  made  a  magnificent  one, 
every  modern  convenience.  I  have  a  room  superbly  fur- 
nished. They  tell  me  my  breakfast  will  be  served  in  my 
room  tomorrow  morning.  .  .  .  Tomorrow  morning  I 

[194] 


MUNICH  REVISITED 

will  go  to  the  gallery.  I  feel  sure  I  am  going  to  enjoy  my 
stay  here  and  thank  heaven  it  is  warm.  I  was  almost 
frozen  in  Paris.  Goodnight  darling.  God  bless  you. 
Kisses  to  all  the  children. 

"YOUR  DEVOTED  HUSBAND." 

The  next  day  he  tells  of  going  to  the  New  Pinakotek, 
where  he  "saw  some  good  pictures,  among  them  that 
splendid  picture  by  Dagnan-Bouveret  which  looks  so 
wonderfully  like  you.  I  choked  with  emotion  when  I  saw 
it  and  I  also  forthwith  had  a  spell  of  homesickness.  I 
would  give  anything  to  possess  this  picture.  It  is  more 
like  you  than  the  other  one  owned  by  Shields  Clark.  I 
shall  go  to  see  it  often  while  I  am  here. 

"I  went  to  the  Secession  Exhibition.  I  am  a  member 
of  this  society  and  I  told  the  man  at  the  entrance  who  I 
was  and  he  admitted  me  free  and  told  me  that  I  had 
many  friends  in  Munich  who  would  be  glad  to  see  me. 
It  is  a  very  good  exhibition.  I  got  my  trunk  all  right 
this  morning.  Have  not  seen  any  of  my  friends  yet.  I 
got  three  crosses  for  you  today,  pretty  good  ones.  I  went 
to  the  Gartner  Platz  Theater  tonight.  It  is  the  theater  I 
used  to  go  to  so  often.  It  is  not  changed  at  all,  even  the 
same  drop  curtain.  For  the  moment  I  was  taken  back 
to  the  student  days." 

[195] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 
The  next  day  he  continues  his  story: 

"Today  I  went  to  the  old  Pinakotek  and  enjoyed  the 
pictures  very  much.  They  looked  like  old  acquaintances 
and  old  friends.  I  have  been  strolling  about  seeing  parts 
of  the  city  that  I  had  not  seen  since  my  arrival.  Tomor- 
row I  will  look  up  some  of  my  former  friends.  I  am 
served  with  splendid  coffee  in  my  room  every  morning. 
Of  course  I  am  thinking  of  you  all  in  Shinnecock.  It  will 
be  several  days  before  I  can  know  any  news  from  home 
as  I  have  ordered  my  mail  forwarded  to  Haarlem.  Good- 
night sweetheart.  Love  and  kisses  to  the  chicks. 

"WILL." 

The  following  day  he  writes  of  meetings  and  renewals: 
"...  I  went  to  call  on  some  of  my  artist  friends  to- 
day, found  Prof.  Dietz  and  Prof.  Dietrich  in  their  studios 
and  enjoyed  a  very  pleasant  call.  They  expressed  them- 
selves as  delighted  to  see  me.  At  the  old  gallery  I  met 
my  summer  pupil  Mr.  Rittenberg.  He  said  that  he  and 
Mr.  TJllmann  had  been  looking  all  over  the  city  to  find 
me.  I  have  been  with  them  all  day.  We  went  to  the  two 
modern  Exhibitions  which  are  here  now.  Ullmann  who 
was  leaving  for  Paris  tomorrow  has  decided  to  go  to 
Vienna  and  Berlin  with  me.  We  will  likely  leave  on  Wed- 
nesday. Tonight  we  went  to  a  vaudevi|Je  entertainment 

[196] 


MUNICH  REVISITED 

at  a  magnificent  theatre,  the  best  of  the  performance 
was  a  young  American  girl  and  a  troupe.  They  met 
with  great  success  with  the  audience. 

"I  am  always  thinking  of  you  and  wishing  you  were 
with  me  to  enjoy  all  this.  ...  I  am  sending  Dorothy 
and  Cosy  a  letter  by  this  same  mail." 

Mr.  Rittenberg  gives  an  amusing  account  of  their 
sightseeing  and  visiting  in  Munich.  Chase,  resplendent 
in  summer  white,  with  black-ribboned  glasses  and  a 
general  effect  of  immaculateness,  seated  beside  him  in 
the  open  droschke,  presented,  he  says,  rather  the  appear- 
ance of  a  naval  officer  than  of  an  artist.  When  they  ar- 
rived at  the  marble  steps  of  the  beautiful  new  academy 
building  the  driver  stopped  at  the  entrance  for  the  gen- 
eral public.  Within  another  closer  half-circle  was  the 
descending  place  for  royalty  and  titled  guests.  Chase, 
democratically  unaware  of  this  distinction  but  with  an 
American  determination  to  effect  the  most  precise 
descent,  waved  magnificently  to  the  cabman,  "On,  on !" 
The  cabman  turned  in  his  seat,  hesitated,  glanced  at  the 
glittering  attire  of  his  fare,  and  at  the  third  peremptory 
"On!"  without  further  question  turned  into  the  sacred 
driveway  and  deposited  the  two  painters  at  royalty's 
entrance.  As  they  entered  the  hall  they  found  all  the 
eyes  in  the  place  upon  them.  As  unfamiliar  members  of 

[197J 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

the  royal  family  they  were  naturally  of  peculiar  interest 
to  the  German  citizens. 

Chase  was  delighted  with  the  beautiful  new  building. 
Afterward  he  went  to  visit  the  old  academy  where  he 
had  studied,  the  sight  of  which  revived  many  happy 
memories. 

Mr.  Rittenberg  says  that  their  call  upon  the  old 
painter  Dietz  was  quite  touching.  Chase  had  never  been 
a  pupil  of  Dietz,  having  placed  himself  in  Piloty's  class, 
but  in  his  student  days  the  young  American  painter  had, 
of  course,  been  known  to  the  other  German  instructors. 

Old  Dietz  was  seated  at  his  easel  painting  as  they  went 
in.  Chase  went  up  to  him  and  held  out  his  hand.  "Do 
you  remember  me,  Herr  Dietz?"  he  asked.  The  old 
Bavarian  looked  up,  keeping  his  eyes  upon  his  guest's 
face  an  instant,  then  with  a  cry  of  delight  he  rose,  ex- 
claiming, "It  is  Herr  Chase,"  and  welcomed  him  with 
almost  childlike  affection.  Chase  was  deeply  touched  by 
this  greeting  after  his  twenty -five  years  of  absence. 

Carl  Marr,  whom  they  visited  next,  seemed  also  glad 
to  see  the  American  painter  again,  but  his  manner,  Mr. 
Rittenberg  says,  was  more  that  of  the  bashful  school- 
boy than  the  well-known  painter.  Marr,  he  thought, 
was  embarrassed  by  his  consciousness  of  their  artistic 
differences. 

[198] 


MUNICH  REVISITED 

Another  letter  from  Chase  to  his  wife  alludes  to  these 
Munich  meetings. 

"I  am  afraid  I  got  to  bed  rather  late  last  night  ."I 
spent  the  evening  with  the  boys  who  seemed  never  to 
know  when  to  stop  talking.  Yesterday  was  a  very  in- 
teresting day  for  me.  I  visited  several  of  the  dealer's 
places  and  after  lunch  went  to  Lenbach's  studio  and 
after  that  to  Baron  Schack's  gallery  where  I  saw  some 
beautiful  pictures  by  Boecklin.  Lenbach's  studio  and 
house  is  simply  magnificent.  He  was  apparently  glad  to 
see  me  and  first  of  all  said,  'Herr  Chase  you  have  made 
a  great  name  for  yourself.'  He  showed  me  many  portraits 
which  are  fine."  [Three  underlinings.]  "I  dined  with 
several  of  the  students  and  after  spent  the  rest  of  the 
evening  in  one  of  the  magnificent  cafes  they  have  here. 
Today  we  are  going  out  to  the  Schlesheim  palace  where 
we  will  see  some  pictures.  I  used  to  go  there  often." 

Mr.  Rittenberg  said  that  he  had  never  seen  von  Len- 
bach  more  gracious  than  he  was  to  Chase.  He  paid  every 
tribute  to  the  American  painter  and  was  cordial  to  a 
degree  most  unusual  with  him.  Chase  seems  to  have 
been  deeply  impressed  with  the  significance  of  von  Len- 
bach's beautiful  home  and  commented  a  bit  wistfully 
upon  the  recognition  given  by  Germany  to  her  artists. 
It  was  at  such  moments  as  these  that  it  seemed  to  Chase 

[199] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

that  Europe  was  a  better  place  for  a  painter  to  live  in 
than  America.  It  is  doubtful,  however,  if  he  would  really 
have  been  able  to  adapt  himself  successfully  to  a  foreign 
environment.  Chase  was  not  a  natural  linguist.  Even 
his  long  residence  in  Germany  did  not  give  him  any 
real  command  of  the  language.  It  seems  probable  that 
the  life  he  led,  pupils  and  all — perhaps  pupils  most  of 
all— was  the  one  that  made  him  happiest  and  that  best 
enabled  him  to  express  the  thing  he  was  able  to  contrib- 
ute to  the  art  to  which  he  gave  his  life. 

The  next  letter  to  Mrs.  Chase  tells  of  the  trip  to 
Schlesheim: 

"There  are  a  few  good  pictures  in  the  palace, 
one  capital  Velasquez.  I  dined  with  my  friends  and 
spent  the  evening  in  the  cafe  which  I  have  sent  post- 
cards of.  To-morrow  I  must  make  several  calls  on  old 
friends  whom  I  have  not  yet  seen.  I  am  having  as  good 
a  time  as  it  is  possible  to  have  without  you  and  the 
children.  ..." 

With  Mr.  Rittenberg,  Chase  also  visited  Stiick's 
house,  which  was  decorated  with  and  after  the  manner 
of  that  painter's  peculiar  art.  There  Chase's  horrified 
comment  was:  "How  terrible  to  have  to  live  in  such  a 
place!"  Stiick's  childish  striving  for  the  gruesome,  a 
development  of  the  German  romantic  sdiool  that  might 

[200] 


MUNICH  REVISITED 

be  considered  unwholesome  were  it  less  naive  in  its  ef- 
forts to  inspire  the  shudder,  his  obvious  striving  for 
symbolism,  his  mannered  treatment,  is  after  all  just 
Chase's  old  enemy,  "the  bonbon-box  kind  of  thing" 
turned  to  dank  uses.  The  result  is  of  all  things  the  fur- 
thest possible  remove  from  Chase's  ideal  of  art.  He  ad- 
mired the  exterior  of  Stuck's  beautiful  white  house  set 
among  carefully  tended  German  green  things,  but  he 
was  glad  to  close  the  door  upon  the  deliberately  con- 
trived ghoulishness  of  the  interior. 

Chase  went  also  to  call  on  Fritz  von  Uhde,  who  lived 
in  the  country  outside  Munich,  and  to  Piloty's  house, 
where  he  saw  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  painted  it 
one  of  his  portraits  of  the  Piloty  children,  that  of  the 
child  who  is  no  longer  living,  the  others  being  in  the 
possession  of  their  respective  subjects.  In  the  museum 
Chase  pointed  out  to  Mr.  Rittenberg  a  section  of  one  of 
Piloty's  canvases  that  he  had  painted  on  in  his  student 
days,  a  vast  historical  subject,  relic  of  a  bygone  phase 
of  art. 

Rittenberg  and  Ullman  journeyed  on  with  Chase.  In 
his  letters  to  his  wife  from  various  points  Chase  con- 
tinues his  faithful,  if  somewhat  unilluminated,  account  of 
his  doings.  From  Vienna  he  writes: 

"Mr.  Rittenberg,  Ullman  and  I  have  been  to  see  both 

[201  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

of  the  galleries  here  and  have  enjoyed  a  rare  treat.  The 
pictures  by  Hals  and  Velasquez  are  very  fine.  .  .  ." 

Two  days  later  he  writes  from  Berlin:  "Immediately 
after  breakfast  I  went  to  the  picture  galleries,"  adding 
characteristically,  "I  did  not  know  until  I  had  taken  a 
cab  and  found  everything  closed  that  it  was  Sunday. 
The  Velasquez  and  Hals  pictures  also  the  Rembrandts 
are  fine  here,  especially  the  big  fat  man  by  Velasquez. 
After  seeing  the  old  masters  we  went  to  the  modern  ex- 
hibition. The  American  part  of  it  looks  well,  is  well 
placed  occupying  one  of  the  best  locations.  My  picture 
of  Cosy  holding  the  Japanese  book  looks  pretty  well. 
(I  think  perhaps  you  would  say  that  it  looks  better  than 
pretty  well.)  The  exhibit  is  a  good  one  throughout,  the 
best  modern  show  that  I  have  seen  since  I  left  Paris. 
Berlin  is  a  beautiful  city.  One  sees  much  of  the  pomp 
which  is  so  agreeable  to  your  friend  William.  I  sent  you 
a  post-card  of  him.  He  is  down  at  Kiel  today  where  he 
is  dining  and  being  dined  by  some  of  our  naval  men  and 
the  Vanderbilts.  I  saw  one  of  his  sons  drive  through  the 
street  today.  You  would  have  been  amused  to  see  the 
taking  off  of  hats  and  the  low  bowing.  I  was  in  an  open 
carriage  and  took  off  my  hat.  He  saluted  me  but  not  the 
street  people. 

"...  Ullman  and  Rittenberg  are  stil^  with  me.  .  .  . 


MUNICH  REVISITED 

They    have    been    very    agreeable    traveling    compan- 
ions. .  .  . 

"I  can  scarcely  wait  to  reach  Haarlem  and  get  your 
letters." 

The  next  letter  from  Cassel  speaks  of  visiting  the 
galleries,  seeing  some  excellent  modern  pictures  in  Ber- 
lin, some  "splendid"  works  by  Leibl.  He  notes  also  at 
the  Secession  Exhibition  "some  beautiful  pictures."  "I 
am  getting  almost  an  indigestion  of  pictures,"  he  re- 
marks, "and  will  be  glad  when  I  can  get  to  work.  I  am 
in  great  anticipation  of  getting  some  letters  from  you  to- 
morrow when  I  will  arrive  at  Haarlem.  At  the  different 
cities  I  have  passed  through  I  have  found  some  crosses 
for  you.  Have  bought  three  rings  not  of  much  consequence. 
I  will  likely  drop  you  another  line  from  here  today.  I 
am  always  wishing  you  were  with  me. 

"YOUR  WILL." 


[203] 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
A  SUMMER  CLASS  IN  HOLLAND 

THE  next  day  Chase  reached  Holland.  Henry  Rit- 
tenberg  returned  to  Germany,  but  Eugene  Ullman 
went  on  with  him  to  Haarlem.  From  Haarlem  he  writes 
to  Mrs.  Chase  of  his  preparation  for  the  coming  class. 

"The  students  will  arrive  tomorrow  and  I  have  ar- 
ranged to  give  them  a  little  dinner  at  the  principal  cafe 
here.  This  afternoon  I  went  down  to  Zandvoort.  I  went 
to  the  house  where  I  lived  the  summer  I  spent  there 
and  was  immediately  recognized  by  the  woman  who 
lives  there.  It  is  the  place  where  I  painted  my  picture 
known  as  The  Tiff"  * 

His  letter,  written  the  following  day,  describes  the 
Fourth  of  July  dinner  he  gave  to  welcome  his  students. 

"Early  in  the  morning  I  had  them  put  out  a  large 
American  flag.  Mr.  Townsley  went  to  Rotterdam  to 
meet  the  party.  I  had  sent  to  Amsterdam  for  flags  and 
I  must  say  the  room  looked  very  pretty.  He  got  a  small 
picture  of  Washington  and  one  of  Roosevelt.  I  had  flowers 
and  music,  a  small  American  flag  at  each  place  made 
especially  at  Amsterdam.  They  are  funny  looking  things. 

*  Subsequently  called  the  Outdoor  Breakfast,  also  Sunlight  and  Shadow. 

[204] 


A  SUMMER  CLASS  IN  HOLLAND 

I  will  bring  one  home  with  me  for  you  to  see.  Mrs.  Wads- 
worth  and  Frank  look  well.  I  thought  you  might  give  me 
a  surprise  by  sending  Cosy  with  them  to  me.  I  have 
found  a  little  studio  and  will  get  to  work  at  once.  Love 
to  you  my  darling.  Good-by  until  tomorrow. 

"WiLL." 

The  next  letter  carries  on  the  tale  of  the  students. 

"The  students  will  begin  work  tomorrow.  I  went  over 
to  Amsterdam  this  afternoon  and  in  the  Jews  quarter  I 
came  upon  a  market  quite  like  the  Madrid  one,  anything 
from  a  rusty  nail  to  a  fine  cabinet  clock  or  a  silk  dress. 
The  place  would  delight  you — everything  spread  out  on 
the  pavement.  I  found  a  few  things  for  the  studio  and  a 
cross  for  you.  There  are  very  few  old  rings  to  be  had 
and  they  are  not  very  good.  I  have  not  bought  any  as 
yet.  My  how  I  would  enjoy  to  go  through  these  old  places 
with  you !  The  weather  is  still  unpleasant.  I  had  to  wear 
my  overcoat  all  day." 

A  few  days  later  he  writes  of  more  pilgrimages  to  the 
galleries. 

"Mr.  Townsley  and  I  went  to  the  Hague  and  went 
directly  to  the  gallery.  There  are  some  superb  pictures 
there  and  I  was  just  in  the  mood  to  enjoy  them.  After 

[205  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

lunch  we  went  to  call  on  Mesdag  (you  know  I  have 
known  him  for  a  long  time).  He  said  he  was  glad  to  see 
me,  that  he  had  heard  I  was  in  Haarlem  with  a  lot  of 
American  students  and  he  considered  that  I  was  pay- 
ing Holland  a  great  compliment  to  come  so  far  to  study 
their  pictures.  He  could  not  have  been  more  congenial. 
His  collection  is  very  fine,  and  he  is  giving  it  to  Holland. 
.  .  .  We  are  to  have  the  first  private  view.  We  stayed 
the  entire  afternoon.  Mrs.  Mesdag  joined  us  with  tea 
and  we  returned  to  Haarlem  feeling  happy  over  a  most 
enjoyable  time.  Tomorrow  morning  is  to  be  the  first 
criticism.  If  I  decide  to  go  to  Spain  next  year  do  you 
think  you  could  manage  to  go  with  me?  I  don't  care 
how  many  of  the  children  you  take,  the  more  the  better 
for  me.  "Your  devoted 

"WiLL." 

The  next  letter  repeats  the  tale  of  cold  weather,  gal- 
leries visited,  talks  to  students,  the  starting  of  a  new 
still-life,  another  trip  to  the  market,  of  crosses  and  rings 
he  had  seen,  without  any  comment  upon  the  facts  enu- 
merated. Concerning  the  still-life  he  says:  "I  hope  when 
I  see  it  tomorrow  that  I  wont  have  to  scrape  it  out. 
Ullman  and  I  took  a  long  walk  after  dinner  through  the 
beautiful  canal  streets  here  and  saw  many  beautiful 

r  2061 


A  SUMMER  CLASS  IN  HOLLAND 

motives  for  pictures  some  of  which  I  shall  hope  to  get 
done.  .  .  . 

"I  see  in  the  Herald  of  yesterday  that  Whistler  is 

dead He  will  be  very  much  missed  as  an 

artist." 

A  letter  written  a  few  days  later  has  rather  more  per- 
sonality than  some  of  the  others.  "I  found  you  a  cross 
and  a  bit  of  old  lace,  a  collar.  It  may  not  be  good.  You 
know  I  am  no  expert  in  lace  so  don't  expect  too  much. 
The  ladies  say  it  is  lovely  but  they  would  say  that  of 
anything  I  buy  I  think.  I  also  got  two  pretty  good  rings. 
I  did  not  go  with  the  party  this  afternoon  to  Scheveningen 
but  returned  here  after  I  had  visited  several  bric-a-brac 
shops. 

"The  students  telegraphed  to  London  and  arranged 
to  have  a  wreath  placed  on  Whistler's  coffin  in  the  name 
of  me  and  the  class.  Nice  of  them  to  do  this,  don't  you 
think  so  ?  Ullman  begins  a  portrait  of  me  tomorrow. 

:<  Yesterday  (in  the  name  and  memory  of  you)  I  took 
Mrs.  Wadsworth  a  small  bottle  of  Pond's  Extract  which 
I  had  in  my  bag.  I  believe  her  ankle  is  better  now.  She 
is  as  enthusiastic  as  any  of  the  young  pupils  over  what 
she  finds  here.  I  wish  you  were  with  me." 

Again  he  enthusiastically  describes  some  early-bird 
shopping: 

[207] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

"My  DARLING: 

"I  was  ahead  of  everyone  else  this  morning  at  the 
old  market,  and  got  quite  a  lot  of  things, — furniture, 
brass,  copper,  clocks  and  some  lace  for  you.  You  would 
have  enjoyed  to  look  the  stuff  over  and  I  don't  doubt 
but  that  you  would  have  found  some  bargains  that 
missed  me. 

"The  photographs  arrived  this  afternoon.  They  are 
splendid.  I  am  very  much  disappointed  not  to  find  any  of 
you.  Bob  looks  important  and  fine.  Dorothy  is  superb. 

"Love  from  your 

"WiLL." 

A  letter  written  to  his  wife  before  breakfast  shows 
the  necessity  of  his  affectionate  nature  to  communicate. 

"...  Not  that  I  have  anything  new  to  tell  you.  You 
know  that  I  love  you  dearly.  You  have  known  this  for 
more  than  twenty  years.  Oh  how  I  miss  you.  .  .  .  To- 
day after  breakfast  we  (Townsley  and  I)  take  a  train 
for  Antwerp.  I  am  anticipating  the  pleasure  to  see  again 
the  pictures  I  saw  so  many  years  ago." 

In  a  letter  to  his  sister-in-law,  Minnie  Gerson,  written 
from  Haarlem,  he  shows  both  the  affectionate  feeling  he 
had  for  his  wife's  family  and  his  omnipresent  kindly  in- 
terest in  his  students. 

[208] 


A  SUMMER  CLASS  IN  HOLLAND 

He  begins  by  apologizing  for  not  answering  more 
promptly  her  "lovely  letter,"  and  adds: 

"I  suppose  you  know  how  alarmed  I  was  at  not 
having  heard  from  you.  You  can  imagine  my  relief  to 
know  that  you  are  the  same  sweet  Minnie  as  of  old.  I 
think  of  you  often  and  did  so  especially  in  London  and 
Paris.  .  .  . 

"I  am  enjoying  my  stay  here  as  much  as  is  possible 
without  'Toady'  and  the  children.  My  students  are  very 
happy  and  are  hard  at  work.  .  .  . 

"It  is  just  two  months  since  I  left  home,  it  seems  like 
a  year  when  I  think  of  it.  My  pupils  have  about  bought 
all  that  there  is  to  be  had  in  brass  and  copper  here  and 
the  price  has  actually  gone  up  since  our  arrival.  I  am 
getting  some  interesting  things  in  furniture.  'Toady' 
would  revel  in  the  old  furniture  markets  here.  If  I  come 
abroad  next  year  I  am  going  to  try  to  get  'Toady'  and 
you  to  come  along. 

"Do  write  to  me  soon  again.  I  love  to  get  your  let- 
ters. My  love  to  Jennie. 

"Lovingly  yours, 

"WILL." 

The  next  letter  to  his  wife  inquires  anxiously  about 
some  promised  snap-shots  of  "Rollie." 

[209  ] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

"Has  he  walked  yet?"  he  asks.  "I  think  you  expected 
him  to  about  this  time."  He  speaks  of  his  friend  Mr. 
Kennedy.  "He  stopped  here  for  the  express  purpose  to 
see  me  which  I  think  was  very  nice  of  him  indeed.  He 
did  not  know  to  tell  me  much  of  Whistler's  death  except 
that  Whistler  was  out  with  a  friend  to  drive  the  day  be- 
fore he  died." 

The  letters  continue  with  complaints  of  dark  weather, 
comments  on  a  day's  painting,  and  finally  record  the 
arrival  of  the  promised  photographs  of  "Rollie."  "How 
nice  the  big  ball  is  with  him  and  Dorothy  and  Helen  in 
the  distance.  They  make  me  homesick." 

"I  think  I  have  something  done,"  he  writes,  referring 
to  his  day's  work.  "/  don't  know  what  I  will  think  tomor- 
row. I  have  (as  I  wrote  you  yesterday)  been  away  from 
you  and  the  dear  children  just  two  months  today.  Only 
one  more  lap  and  then  to  you  as  fast  as  I  can  get  there. 
Saturday  Townsley,  Ullman  and  I  are  going  over  to 
Antwerp  and  Brussels  to  see  the  galleries.  I'll  tell  you  all 
about  what  I  saw  when  I  get  back." 

"I  have  been  at  work  all  day  doing  a  still  life,"  he 
informs  his  wife  the  following  day.  "I  found  the  work  of 
yesterday  not  too  bad  when  I  saw  it  this  morning.  While 
at  breakfast  a  tiny  little  letter  (also  a  newspaper  and  a 
magazine  with  the  autobiography  of  Blum)  was  handed 

[210] 


A  SUMMER  CLASS  IN  HOLLAND 

to  me.  I  do  wish  you  would  write  me  more  news  of  home. 
...  I  will  try  to  find  you  something  in  Antwerp  and 
Brussels." 

From  Brussels  he  reports  at  once  upon  the  pictures 
which  he  pronounces  very  fine.  He  records  seeing  "six 
magnificent  Stevens"  (three  underlinings)  and  describes 
a  present  she  is  to  receive.  "I  was  lucky  to  get  a  very 
good  long  stick  for  you  (a  better  one  than  those  we  saw 
in  Madrid).  I  got  another  rather  good  cross  there.  .  .  . 
Three  letters  from  you  today,  thank  you. 

"Love  to  Minnie.  I  suppose  she  is  with  you. 

"YOUR  WILL." 

Writing  to  his  sister-in-law,  Virginia  Gerson,  about 
this  time  he  speaks  of  the  death  of  his  friend  Robert 
Blum. 

"It  is  too  bad  about  Blum's  taking  off.  I  saw  with  a 
keen  feeling  of  regret  the  little  house  he  occupied  here. 
He  is  well  remembered  here.  One  party  showed  me  a 
photographic  group  in  which  Blum  appears."  Farther 
on  he  remarks  that  the  Franz  Hals  pictures  are  "even 
finer  than  I  remembered  them." 

In  another  paragraph  he  says:  "I  am  getting  some 
pretty  good  crosses  for  Toady's  collection.  Bless  her ! 
How  I  do  miss  her  and  the  children.  Have  I  offended 

[211] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

Minnie?  (my  Minnie).  I  wrote  her  from  London  and 
have  not  had  a  line  from  her.  Please  tell  her  I  didn't  mean 
it,  whatever  it  is  that  she  may  have  taken  offence  at." 

A  few  days  later  he  took  the  students  to  see  the  Mes- 
dag  collections  at  The  Hague.  The  students,  he  informed 
his  wife,  "all  came  away  very  enthusiastic.  Mr.  Mesdag 
and  Mrs.  Mesdag  showed  us  their  studios  and  were 
most  hospitable.  ...  I  found  two  interesting  crosses 
for  you.  No  rings  to  be  found." 

Josef  Israels  was  the  next  painter  who  had  to  do 
his  duty  by  the  students.  The  entire  class  made  the  trip 
to  The  Hague  with  Chase.  He  comments  upon  their  visit 
as  follows: 

"We  found  Mr.  Israels  a  very  charming  little  man. 
(He  does  not  stand  as  high  as  my  shoulder.)  The  stu- 
dents were  all  delighted  with  the  man  and  his  pictures. 
After  the  students  scattered,  some  going  to  the  mu- 
seum and  a  number  in  search  of  bric-a-brac,  I  found  the 
cross.  It  is  a  pretty  good  one  so  I  bought  it  for  you. 

"This  afternoon  John  Van  Dyke  the  art  writer  ar- 
rived here.  He  dined  with  me  tonight.  I  like  him.  You 
know  I  have  known  him  for  a  long  time.  He  says  he 
simply  stopped  here  to  see  me  and  the  Hals  pictures 
again. 

"I  got  three  letters  from  you  tonight.  Thank  you. 

[212] 


A  SUMMER  CLASS  IN  HOLLAND 

"In  answer  to  your  question  did  I  get  any  Brussels 
lace  for  you  while  there,  I  did  get  a  bit,  but  I  am  sure 
it  is  not  good.  Only  I  thought  I  must  get  something  in 
that  line  since  Brussels  is  so  celebrated  for  lace.  I  be- 
lieve you  will  be  interested  in  some  of  the  things  I  have 
got  for  you.  .  .  . 

"I  went  over  to  Amsterdam  early  this  morning  and 
got  my  Hals  copy  going.  I  worked  through  for  three 
hours  and  I  believe  got  a  good  start." 

Nothing  that  could  contribute  to  the  students'  plea- 
sure or  store  of  knowledge  was  overlooked.  One  of  them 
remembers  how  Chase  took  them  all  to  a  private  house 
in  Holland  to  see  the  family  portraits,  one  of  which  was 
a  fine  example  of  Rembrandt. 

Before  he  left  Haarlem,  Chase  showed  his  apprecia- 
tion of  the  friendly  spirit  of  the  townspeople  as  well  as 
his  devotion  to  their  greatest  master  by  laying  a  wreath 
at  the  foot  of  the  Hals  monument  in  the  presence  of  the 
mayor  and  the  people  of  the  town. 

That  the  people  of  Haarlem  valued  the  compliment 
that  Chase  paid  to  the  art  of  their  country  is  shown  by 
the  fact  that  before  he  left  a  silver  medal  was  presented 
to  him  by  the  burgomaster,  Paul  Vlissingen,  inscribed: 
"Remembrance  of  the  visit  of  William  Chase,  U.  S.  A., 
and  his  class  to  the  Franz  Hals  Museum  in  Holland." 

[213  ] 


CHAPTER  XIX 
.LONDON  AND  MADRID 

IN  the  spring  of  1904  Chase's  youngest  child,  Mary 
Content,  was  born.  Her  entrance  inlo  the  world  oc- 
curred one  evening  when  Chase  was  to  have  been  a 
guest  of  honor  at  a  dinner  given  by  the  Salmagundi 
Club.  When  he  failed  to  arrive  and  no  explanation  or 
excuse  seemed  forthcoming,  Chase's  hosts  could  not 
imagine  what  had  happened,  but  as  they  sat  at  dinner, 
having  given  up  their  guest,  a  telegram  arrived  for 
Frederick  Dielman  stating  that  Chase  was  unable  to 
be  present  on  account  of  the  birth  of  another  daughter. 

Congratulations  were  telegraphed  immediately  to  the 
painter  and  his  wife,  all  present  drank  a  toast  to  the 
baby,  and  a  musician,  a  guest  of  the  evening,  instantly 
improvised  a  cradle-song  upon  his  violin. 

That  summer  Chase  held  his  summer  class  in  Eng- 
land. The  centre  of  interest  was  Hampstead  Heath, 
where  the  students  painted  daily.  Chase  rented  a  fur- 
nished studio  in  Chelsea  for  himself. 

As  in  all  the  countries  he  visited  with  his  pupils,  he 
took  them  to  the  studios  of  the  painters,  an  experience 
invaluable  to  his  students,  as  aside  from  the  interest 
and  stimulation  of  coming  in  contact  with  the  painters 

[214] 


LONDON  AND   MADRID 

themselves,  it  gave  them  the  opportunity  to  see  their 
studies  and  half-finished  pictures,  an  object-lesson  they 
could  have  had  in  no  other  way.  He  escorted  his  entire 
class  to  the  studios  of  Edwin  Abbey,  Frank  Brangwyn, 
Alma-Tadema,  La  very,  Shannon,  and  Sargent. 

At  Abbey's  house  the  enthusiasm  of  the  students  did 
not  stop  with  the  studio,  but,  charmed  with  the  quaint- 
ness  of  the  English  house,  they  penetrated  even  into  the 
kitchen,  much  to  Mrs.  Abbey's  amusement.  One  of 
Abbey's  Shakespearian  subjects  was  in  the  studio  un- 
completed at  the  time,  and  Chase,  at  Abbey's  request, 
criticised  it.  Abbey  was  also  at  work  upon  a  coronation 
picture  for  which  the  Queen  was  posing.  Her  gown  lay 
upon  a  chair  in  the  studio  and  was  the  cause  of  great  ex- 
citement among  the  feminine  pupils. 

Walter  Pach,  a  pupil  in  the  class  that  summer,  recalls 
interesting  pilgrimages  to  the  galleries  with  their  master, 
his  enthusiasm  over  the  work  of  his  favorites,  his  scorn- 
ful wit  expended  upon  the  treasures  of  the  Tate  Gallery. 
Catholic  as  was  Chase's  taste,  he  found  himself  unable 
to  discover  any  virtues  in  the  Preraphaelites.  After  gaz- 
ing for  some  time  one  day  at  one  of  Burne-Jones's  heavy- 
lipped,  long-necked,  large-eyed  ladies,  he  turned  to  his 
companion  and  said:  "If  I  saw  a  woman  like  that  com- 
ing down  the  street  I  can  tell  you  I'd  run  like  a  deer." 

[  215  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

But  if  Chase  suffered  from  the  Tate  Gallery,  he  found 
his  greatest  pleasure  in  the  National  Gallery,  which  he 
used  to  say  was  probably  the  finest  collection  of  pic- 
tures in  the  world. 

Always  loyal  to  his  compatriot  Sargent,  when  he 
paused  before  the  Carnation  Lily,  Lily  Rose  picture, 
quoting  Whistler's  paraphrase,  Darnation  silly,  silly 
pose,  he  refused  to  accept  the  Whistlerism  as  a  just 
criticism. 

It  was  in  1904  that  Chase  painted  his  English  Cod, 
now  owned  by  the  Corcoran  Gallery  in  Washington,  and 
this  is  how  that  particular  cod  came  to  be  painted: 
Passing  a  fishmonger's  shop  one  day,  Chase  saw  a  large 
and  opalescent  cod  lying  upon  a  marble  slab.  He  stood 
for  some  time  gazing  at  it,  priced  it,  decided  that  it  was 
rather  an  expensive  and  perishable  bit  of  still-life  mate- 
rial and  continued  on  his  errand,  but  he  could  not  forget 
the  fish.  Its  subtle  color  haunted  his  dreams  as  the  face 
of  a  beautiful  woman  is  supposed  to  obsess  the  painter's 
imagination  in  fiction,  and  the  spell  of  its  beauty  drew 
him  back  to  the  fishmonger's  stall.  He  explained  to  the 
owner  of  the  shop  the  nature  of  his  interest,  and  sug- 
gested, since  it  was  not  his  desire  to  dispose  of  the  fish 
in  the  usual  and  permanent  manner,  that  perhaps  he 
might  rent  it  for  a  few  hours.  0 

[216] 


LONDON  AND   MADRID 

The  fishmonger,  since  it  was  Saturday  and  a  half- 
holiday,  hesitated  at  first  lest  he  lose  the  sale  of  his  fish. 
After  a  short  dicker,  however,  he  agreed  to  rent  the 
cod  to  the  artist,  and  Chase  went  away  with  his  prize, 
promising  to  pay  for  it  if  he  kept  it  over  the  allotted 
time. 

When  the  fish  was  not  returned  on  time  the  fish- 
monger sent  an  emissary  to  the  painter's  studio  to  find 
out  what  was  going  on.  His  report,  whatever  it  was, 
evidently  aroused  curiosity,  for  in  a  little  while  the  fish- 
monger himself  appeared  on  the  scene.  He  came  in  so 
quietly  that  the  painter  did  not  hear  him  at  first.  When 
discovered,  he  replied  most  respectfully:  "Don't  'urry, 
sir;  it's  getting  on  fine." 

Chase  kept  the  fish  a  little  over  time,  but  the  fish- 
monger waited  patiently  until  he  was  through  with  it. 
When  the  last  brush  stroke  was  planted — that  final 
exactly  right  stroke  that,  as  some  one  has  said,  seems  al- 
ways to  say  "there!" — the  painter  turned  to  the  owner 
of  the  cod  and,  generous  as  always,  suggested  that  he 
ought  to  buy  it  since  the  fishman  might  by  now  have 
lost  all  chance  of  selling  his  fish  before  Sunday.  But  the 
fishmonger,  after  all  an  art-lover  in  his  fashion,  said  that 
he  would  take  his  chances  and  would  accept  nothing  more 
than  the  two  hours'  '  'ire"  for  his  fish. 

[217] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

The  next  year  when  Chase  was  in  London  on  his  way 
to  Spain,  finding  himself  in  the  vicinity  of  the  fish- 
monger's shop,  he  went  in  and  asked  the  man  if  he  re- 
membered him.  The  fishmonger  replied  at  once:  "Oh, 
yes,  you  are  the  American  artist  who  painted  my  cod." 

"I  thought  you  might  like  to  hear  about  it,"  said 
Chase.  "I  sold  that  picture  to  a  museum  for  four  hun- 
dred pounds." 

The  fishmonger  listened  with  interest  and  remarked 
that  it  certainly  was  a  beautiful  picture,  but  that  also  it 
undoubtedly  was  a  fine  cod.  When  the  generous  Chase 
offered  to  give  the  fishmonger  an  honorarium  on  the 
strength  of  his  sale  the  honest  Britisher  flatly  refused. 
He  would  not  take  any  more  of  the  painter's  money,  but 
he  stated  modestly  that  he  would  very  much  like  a 
photograph  of  the  fish  picture  to  hang  in  his  shop,  a  re- 
quest which,  of  course,  delighted  the  painter.  A  photo- 
graph was  made  of  the  cod  when  Chase  went  home.  It 
was  packed  in  his  trunk  and  carried  to  England  the  fol- 
lowing summer — and  carried  back  to  America  in  the 
fall.  Since  the  artist's  tangible  appreciation  never  reached 
him  it  is  a  pity  that  the  fishmonger  could  not  know  how 
pleasantly  he  was  cherished  in  Chase's  memory. 

Chase  became  a  member  of  the  Institute  of  Arts  and 
Letters  in  1905,  from  which  society  he  was  elected  to 


LONDON  AND   MADRID 

membership  in  the  Academy  of  Arts  and  Letters  in 
January,  1908. 

The  summer  of  1905  he  had  his  class  in  Madrid, 
making  first  his  usual  trip  to  London  and  Paris.  Mrs. 
Chase  accompanied  him  as  far  as  France,  but  was  obliged 
to  leave  him  to  return  to  her  children  at  the  end  of  a  few 
weeks. 

While  in  Madrid  Chase  stayed  at  the  pension  of  Seiiora 
Carmona  Dolores,  who  has  entertained  nearly  all  the 
painters  who  have  visited  Spain.  Sargent  always  stayed 
there,  also  Whistler.  Chase  said  that  he  could  never  get 
Whistler  to  admit  that  he  had  been  to  Spain.  For  some 
reason  that  eccentric  being  chose  to  shroud  the  fact  in 
mystery.  But  the  leaf  in  Senora  Dolores's  guest-book 
autographed  with  the  butterfly  was  conclusive  proof. 

Chase  made  a  few  portrait-sketches  from  interesting 
models  that  summer,  but  he  painted  no  landscapes. 
He  seems  never  to  have  painted  much  outdoors  in 
Spain,  and  on  this  trip  did  no  copying  in  the  galleries. 
He  found  a  studio  for  himself,  a  beautiful  apartment  in 
an  old  house.  Irving  Wiles,  who  was  in  Madrid  with 
him  for  a  few  weeks,  enthusiastically  describes  its  dec- 
oration and  arrangement,  and  tells  how  Chase's  Spanish 
landlady,  who  sniffed  with  scorn  as  she  saw  the  dusty 
loads  of  old  brocades,  crockery,  brass,  and  copper  arriv- 

[219] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

ing  at  her  door,  threw  up  her  hands  and  broke  into  ex- 
travagant exclamations  of  admiration  when  she  entered 
the  studio  after  Chase  had  decorated  it. 

A  pupil  in  the  class  that  summer  remembers  how 
Chase  took  them  all  to  Sorolla's  house,  which  was  filled 
with  that  painter's  pictures.  Sorolla  was  not  in  Madrid 
himself  at  the  time,  but  his  brother-in-law  played  the 
host  in  his  absence. 

Sunday  in  Madrid  was  a  gala-day  for  Chase.  He  began 
the  day  by  wandering  through  the  market,  where  he 
never  failed  to  find  treasures.  Irving  Wiles  still  recalls 
with  feeling  the  active  manner  in  which  Chase  dragged 
him  about  in  the  hot  sun  hunting  for  bargains. 

In  the  afternoon  there  was  the  bull-fight.  "And  I 
don't  think  he  ever  missed  a  Sunday  there,"  said  Walter 
Pach.  Chase  not  only  enjoyed  the  spectacle,  but  became 
an  expert  judge  of  the  bull-fighter's  art,  appreciating 
their  points  almost  as  critically  as  a  Spaniard. 

In  the  late  afternoon  and  evening  he  liked  to  watch 
the  pageant  of  the  streets  from  a  seat  at  a  sidewalk  cafe 
or  from  one  of  the  pay-benches  along  the  Prado.  There 
he  delighted  in  picking  out  the  Velasquez  types  in  the 
crowd,  finding  now  a  dwarf,  then  a  beggar,  next  an 
Andalusian  horse,  quite  as  if  they  had  stepped  out  of  a 
Velasquez  canvas.  I  remember  his  saying  that  before 

[  220  ] 


LONDON  AND  MADRID 

he  went  to  Spain  he  used  to  think  those  strange  horses 
in  the  Velasquez  pictures  were  a  sort  of  artistic  license, 
but  that  the  very  first  day  he  went  to  Spain  he  saw  one 
coming  down  the  street. 

Walter  Pach  remembers  the  evening  of  an  informal 
students'  dance  in  Madrid  when  Chase  sat  with  Senora 
Dolores  a  spectator  against  the  wall.  Suddenly  he  jumped 
up,  inviting  the  elderly  Spanish  lady  to  be  his  partner, 
and  they  both  danced  off  together  like  the  youngest 
people  in  the  room,  much  to  the  delight  of  the  students. 

When  his  face  was  turned  toward  home  at  the  end  of 
the  summer  Chase  expressed  his  anticipations  as  father 
and  painter  in  a  letter  to  his  daughter  Dorothy. 

"You  must  get  ready  to  do  a  lot  of  posing  for  me 
when  I  get  home.  I  have  brought  a  lot  of  things  which  I 
know  you  will  look  nice  in.  How  is  Content  ?  Is  she  as 
sweet  as  ever?  .  .  .  Give  my  love  to  everybody.  Good- 
bye, sweetheart. 

"Lovingly, 

"PAPA." 

That  was  Chase's  last  visit  to  Spain.  He  always  in- 
tended to  go  back,  always  retained  his  affection  for  the 
country,  and  often  recalled  the  memories  of  his  days  in 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

Madrid.  The  very  last  year  of  his  life  he  was  planning  a 
trip  there  with  his  wife,  but  as  practically  all  of  his 
journeys  to  Europe  were  made  with  reference  to  his 
summer  classes,  and  as.  he  disliked  the  discussion  of 
plans  or  any  necessity  to  think  of  details,  he  left  the 
selection  of  the  place  where  the  class  was  to  be  held  to 
others.  And  so  it  came  about  that  much  as  he  loved 
Spain  he  never  went  back  there  again. 


[  222  ] 


CHAPTER  XX 
THE  FIRST  VISIT  TO  FLORENCE 

THE  summer  of  1906  Chase  spent  at  Shinnecock. 
The  following  winter  he  continued  his  teaching  in 
New  York  and  Philadelphia.  In  1907,  after  his  usual 
visit  to  London  and  Paris,  he  went  to  Italy.  Much  of 
the  time  he  spent  in  Venice,  although  he  held  his  class 
in  Florence.  It  was  at  the  end  of  this  summer,  his  first 
visit  to  the  Florentine  city,  that  he  bought  his  beautiful 
villa  on  the  farther  side  of  the  Arno. 

When  Edwin  Abbey  heard  that  Chase  was  in  Europe 
that  summer  he  urged  him  to  visit  them  in  England. 
"Do  come  if  you  can,"  he  urges.  "I  should  like  you  to 
see  my  stuff."  Which  shows  how  Abbey,  who  used  to 
take  his  work  to  Chase  for  criticism  in  the  early  Tenth 
Street  days,  still  valued  his  opinion.  Chase  however  was 
obliged  to  go  on  to  Italy  without  seeing  Abbey. 

As  this  was  Chase's  first  visit  to  Florence,  it  was  his 
first  unavoidable  contact  with  Florentine  art,  for  since 
his  natural  tastes  had  led  him  in  quite  opposite  direc- 
tions, he  had  been  at  slight  pains  to  study  the  Floren- 
tine masters  in  the  English,  French,  or  German  galleries. 
In  Florence  when  he  first  went  to  the  museums  it  was 
merely  to  enjoy  the  examples  of  his  favorite  masters, 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

but  his  attention  was  finally  drawn  by  the  omnipresent 
Botticellis  and  other  Florentines,  and  while  he  cannot 
be  said  to  have  acquired  any  great  enthusiasm  for  them, 
he  came  to  enjoy  their  decorative  quality.  He  liked  best 
the  Botticelli  Calumnia  and  the  Primavera.  He  came 
also  to  appreciate  the  decorative  quality  of  the  Paduan 
Mantegna,  but  the  Fra  Angelico  angels  he  refused  to 
accept  on  any  ground. 

In  Florence  Chase  ran  across  his  confrere  George 
DeForest  Brush  (who  does  admire  Florentine  art,  as 
evidenced  in  his  own  work).  He  also  met  his  friend 
Julius  Rolshoven,  and  promptly  conducted  his  class  to 
that  painter's  beautiful  old  castle  near  Florence. 

In  Florence,  as  in  Madrid,  Chase  enjoyed  a  spec- 
tator's seat  at  a  sidewalk  cafe.  There  he  sat  almost  every 
evening  with  his  friend  Rolshoven  discussing  the  Munich 
School,  Leibl,  and  the  tendencies  of  modern  art.  In  the 
American  and  English  colony  in  Florence  he  found  a 
number  of  old  acquaintances  and  made  some  new  ones. 
Shortly  before  his  return  he  sent  a  characteristic  post- 
card to  his  little  son,  Roland  Dana,  saying:  "I  am  com- 
ing home  soon  to  play  with  you." 

In  1908  Chase  severed  his  connection  with  the  New 
York  School  of  Art.  The  summer  he  again  spent  in  Italy, 
but  had  no  class.  That  year  the  Italian  Government 

[224] 


THE  FIRST  VISIT  TO  FLORENCE 

asked  Chase  for  a  self-portrait  to  add  to  the  collection  of 
self-portraits  of  old  and  modern  masters  in  the  Uffizi 
Gallery,  an  honor  he  deeply  appreciated.  I  chanced  to 
meet  Mr.  Chase  in  an  antique  shop  in  Florence  shortly 
after  this  compliment  had  been  paid  him,  and  his  un- 
affected pleasure  in  it  was  most  characteristic  of  the  in- 
nate modesty  of  the  man  which  underlay  all  the  little 
surface  mannerisms  and  innocent  affectations  so  affec- 
tionately remembered  by  his  pupils. 

He  was  full  of  enthusiasm  at  that  time  for  his  recently 
purchased  villa  on  the  farther  side  of  the  Arno,  which 
he  asked  me  to  visit,  but  the  fact  that  I  was  leaving 
Florence  that  day,  unfortunately  prevented  my  seeing  it. 

Chase  had  the  greatest  admiration  for  the  competent 
maternal  contadina  who  had  charge  of  his  villa.  "But  it 
is  a  good  face,  a  beautiful  face,"  he  used  to  say  as  he 
looked  at  her.  He  made  much  of  her  children  and  brought 
them  dolls  that  seemed  to  the  Italian  peasant  much  too 
fine  for  use.  When  Chase  returned  the  next  summer 
with  more  dolls,  supposing  the  others  to  be  worn  out  as 
toys  were  in  his  household,  he  was  overcome  at  being 
shown  the  first  ones  still  untied  in  their  boxes.  "What 
shall  I  do?"  he  asked  one  of  his  feminine  pupils  in  per- 
plexity. "Here  I  have  brought  them  new  dolls  and  they 
have  never  even  used  the  others.  Didn't  they  like  them  ?" 

[225] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

The  winter  after  he  had  bought  the  villa,  as  he  passed 
the  ever-present  temptation  of  an  auction-room  near  his 
New  York  studio  one  day,  Chase  espied  some  colonial 
beds.  "Just  the  thing  for  the  villa,"  he  exclaimed. 

"An  American  colonial  bed  in  an  Italian  villa,"  ob- 
jected the  friend  who  was  with  him. 

"But  why  not,  why  not?  .  .  .  With  canopies,  eh?" 
the  painter  indicated  airily  with  his  expressive  hands. 
"Just  the  thing."  Undeterred  by  discouraging  criticisms, 
he  went  in  to  purchase  a  colonial  bed.  He  admitted  after- 
ward that  he  had  bought  two  and  had  ordered  them 
boxed  and  sent  to  Italy,  after  which  he  thought  of  them 
no  more.  Unfortunately  they  arrived  in  Florence  after 
he  had  left  that  summer,  too  late  to  be  installed.  Notices 
from  the  Italian  customs,  whose  import  he  but  vaguely 
gathered,  followed  him  about,  finally  becoming  so  in- 
sistent that  he  felt  that  they  must  be  attended.  So  the 
next  summer,  about  a  year  and  a  half  after  their  pur- 
chase, he  appealed  to  one  of  his  pupils  who  spoke  Italian 
to  go  with  him  and  disentangle  the  matter. 

At  the  customs  office  he  was  bewildered  by  floods  of 
incomprehensible  language  and  besieged  with  gestures. 
He  subsided  upon  a  chair,  and  gave  the  pupil  with  the 
Italian  tongue  to  understand  that  he  had  entire  con- 
fidence in  her  and  left  the  matter  al^solutely  in  her 

[226] 


THE  FIRST  VISIT  TO  FLORENCE 

hands.  The  pupil,  after  listening  to  duo,  trio,  and  chorus 
— no  solo — informed  Chase  that  the  officers  said  that 
they  must  know  the  exact  number  of  pieces  of  the  beds 
before  they  could  search  for  them.  Chase  was  over- 
whelmed. He  did  not  know  how  many  pieces,  he  was 
not  sure  how  many  beds.  The  pupil  gently  sought  to 
draw  from  him  the  probable  number  of  beds.  At  first 
he  stuck  to  his  original  estimate  of  two.  The  pupil  hastily 
multiplied  the  number  of  beds  by  the  probable  number 
of  pieces,  and  an  excited  search  began.  Ma,  no!  There 
was  nothing  there  of  that  number  of  pieces,  niente, 
niente.  Under  cross-examination  by  the  pupil  the  be- 
wildered Chase  admitted  that  there  might  be  three  beds. 
Eighteen  pieces,  sixteen  pieces.  The  frenzied  search  be- 
gan again  with  the  same  climax  of  despair.  There  was 
nothing  from  America  in  sixteen  pieces;  no,  nor  in  eight- 
een pieces. 

The  search  was  started  on  another  basis,  suggested  by 
v  the  feminine  American  mind,  and  at  last,  late  in  the  day, 
with  every  one  exhausted — Chase  most  of  all — four 
colonial  beds,  the  property  of  Signer  William  Chase, 
Americano,  were  unearthed,  customs  duty  and  storage 
charges  paid,  the  beds  repacked  and  sent  to  the  villa, 
where  they  were  unpacked,  set  up,  but  not  canopied,  and 
never  used;  there  presumably  they  stand  still. 

[  227] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

Chase  sent  two  pictures  to  an  international  exhibition 
in  Berlin  in  the  summer  of  1908 — the  well-known  Woman 
with  the  White  Shawl  and  one  of  his  fine  fish  pictures. 
The  Kaiser,  who  was  naturally  the  first  to  inspect  the 
exhibition,  was  particularly  struck  by  Chase's  portrait. 
He  asked  a  number  of  questions  about  the  painter  and 
was,  of  course,  delighted  at  hearing  that  he  had  studied 
in  the  Fatherland.  Mr.  Hugo  Reisinger,  who  with  von 
Kompf,  the  director  of  the  academy,  accompanied  the 
Kaiser  on  his  round  of  the  gallery,  noting  his  enthusiasm, 
immediately  pointed  out  the  still-life  canvas  to  his 
Majesty,  but  the  Kaiser  passed  the  fish  without  com- 
ment and  scarcely  a  glance. 

Mr.  Reisinger  thought  that  he  had  overlooked  the 
picture  and  ventured  to  remark:  "This  is  a  marvellous 
bit  of  still-life,  your  Majesty,  by  the  same  artist."  But 
the  Kaiser  briefly  disposed  of  the  matter:  "I  do  not  like 
Fisch." 

Von  Kompf  then  protested:  "But  it  is  a  magnificent 
bit  of  painting,  your  Majesty." 

"But  I  do  not  like  Fisch!"  again  remarked  the  Kaiser 
with  greater  firmness. 

Both  artistic  enthusiasts,  combining  German  persist- 
ence with  German  regard  for  their  sovereign,  set  out 
deferentially  to  lead  the  Kaiser  to  see  the  merits  of  this 


THE  FIRST  VISIT  TO  FLORENCE 

most  excellently  painted  fish,  only  to  find  themselves 
cut  short  after  a  few  protesting  sentences. 

"But  1  do  not  like  Fisch  !"  And  the  voice  of  the  royal 
one  did  not  admit  of  further  argument. 

In  1908  Chase  gave  up  his  Fifth  Avenue  Studio  and 
took  the  large  suite  of  rooms  in  the  Tiffany  Building  on 
Fourth  Avenue.  The  location  of  this  studio  was  not 
known  to  the  general  public  and  was  not  in  the  telephone- 
book,  in  order  that  the  painter  might  be  protected  from 
intrusion  as  much  as  possible. 

The  Fourth  Avenue  Studio  was  even  more  spacious 
than  the  Tenth  Street  place.  Partitions  were  taken  down 
until  a  connecting  chain  of  four  rooms  remained,  two  of 
which  were  extremely  large.  Somewhat  overcrowded, 
yet  without  seeming  actually  cluttered  because  of  their 
size,  these  rooms  were  beautiful  in  tone  and  color.  Rich 
draperies,  Spanish,  Italian,  Chinese,  and  Japanese  em- 
broideries were  in  evidence  on  all  sides.  Pictures  of  his 
own  and  of  other  painters,  including  a  few  old  masters, 
stood  about  or  were  hung  on  the  walls.  Beautiful  old 
furniture,  including  some  rare  Spanish  pieces,  bits  of 
porcelain,  brass,  copper,  Japanese  carvings;  miscel- 
laneous objets  d'art,  Italian,  French,  Dutch,  Spanish,  and 
Oriental,  were  set  each  in  the  exactly  right  place — for 
the  taste  that  can  enjoy  such  multitudinous  ornament ! 

[229] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

Certainly  there  was  in  Chase,  as  an  artist  friend  re- 
marked, something  of  the  Lorenzos  de'  Medici.  He  liked 
magnificence,  efflorescence,  the  multiplication  of  material 
beauty,  and  seemed  often  to  lose  sight  of  the  value  of 
simple  spaces  in  his  love  of  ornamentation  and  bric-a- 
brac.  Fortunately  his  best  canvases  have  a  greater  sim- 
plicity than  the  rooms  he  decorated. 

The  floor  of  the  Fourth  Avenue  Studio  was  of  a  most 
delicious  transparent  mysterious  green — the  green  of 
water  in  deep  woods.  The  effect  was  produced  by  a 
covering  of  heavy  green  linoleum,  stained,  waxed,  pol- 
ished, and  coaxed  by  various  means  into  the  desired 
tone.  Chase  had  a  peculiar  fondness  for  green.  Mrs. 
Chase  was  amused  once  at  his  absent  reply  when  she 
asked  him  what  color  he  preferred  for  the  bathroom 
wall:  "Anything  you  like,  so  long  as  it's  green." 

Another  set  of  rooms  on  the  floor  below  was  kept  for 
the  use  of  his  private  pupils.  With  characteristic  trust- 
fulness Chase  would  descend  from  one  floor  to  the  other, 
leaving  an  open  door  to  the  possible  intruder.  It  was  not 
surprising  in  these  circumstances  that  certain  treasures 
were  missed  from  time  to  time. 

The  scheme  of  the  classes  in  the  Fourth  Avenue  Studio 
was  practically  that  of  an  art  school.  A  model  for  the 
figure  was  provided,  with  a  separate  room  for  the  men 

[230] 


THE  FIRST  VISIT  TO  FLORENCE 

students  in  that  class.  A  number  of  the  pupils  painted 
still  life,  with  all  of  the  beautiful  objects  in  their  mas- 
ter's studio  to  draw  upon  for  their  composition. 

That  autumn  Chase  accepted  an  invitation  to  teach 
again  at  the  New  York  Art  League,  as  he  had  decided 
to  give  up  his  teaching  at  the  Pennsylvania  Academy. 

In  1909  he  went  to  Florence,  where  he  again  had  a 
summer  class.  His  villa  was  greatly  enjoyed  by  his  stu- 
dents but  he  never  lived  in  it,  although  cart-loads  of 
beautiful  objects  purchased  in  and  about  Florence  were 
sent  there — some  of  which  arrived  at  their  destination. 
Chase  had  an  unreasoning  trust  in  the  somewhat  over- 
subtle  Latin  shopkeeper.  "Nonsense,  the  man  is  honest," 
was  his  invariable  answer  to  the  person  who  suggested 
precautions.  When  actual  proof  of  disingenuousness  was 
offered  to  him,  his  invariable  answer  was  that  he  could 
never  have  believed  it  of  that  particular  person.  Chase 
was  not  only  trustful  to  the  point  of  simplicity  in  his 
business  transactions,  but  he  undoubtedly  lacked  dis- 
crimination at  many  points,  perhaps  because  his  com- 
plete absorption  in  his  art  had  trained  his  perceptions 
rather  exclusively  along  one  line.  Certainly  his  ability 
to  judge  human  nature  was  often  insufficient  for  his  self- 
protection. 

A  letter  to  his  daughter  Dorothy,  written  in  August 

[231] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

from  Florence,  shows  his  usual  affectionate  thought  of 
his  children. 

"I  want  to  write  you  a  letter  and  what  shall  I  say? 
I  think  of  you  so  often  when  I  am  out  driving  the  pony. 
You  would  love  to  drive  her,  and  you  shall  if  Dana  doesn't 
mind  (I  find  myself  calling  Roland,  Dana  because  you 
all  do,  I  suppose)." 

He  inquires  how  his  daughter  likes  the  theatre-coat  he 
sent  her,  saying:  "It  was  Mamma's  choice  and  I  liked 
it  also  because  it  was  nice  and  simple.  Now,  darling, 
when  you  can  find  time  write  me  a  little  letter.  Give  my 
love  to  all  at  home.  It  sounds  nice  to  say  'home.'  I  wish 
I  could  see  you  all  this  morning.  Love  to  you,  sweet  one. 

"PAPA." 

Chase  had  an  exhibition  of  his  pictures  in  Cincinnati 
in  1909,  the  third  large  exhibition  of  his  work  to  be  held 
outside  New  York.  And  in  April,  1910,  a  most  interest- 
ing and  representative  exhibition  of  his  pictures  was 
held  at  the  Gallery  of  the  National  Arts  Club,  preceded 
by  a  large  dinner  given  him  in  the  galleries.  Concerning 
this  exhibit,  his  confrere  Frederick  Vinton,  an  old  friend, 
wrote  to  Mrs.  Chase: 

"When  I  found  myself  in  that  superb  exhibit  I  was 

[  232  ] 


THE  LADY  WITH  THE  WHITE  SHAWL. 

Property  ol  the  Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine  Arts. 


THE  FIRST  VISIT  TO  FLORENCE 

quite  bowled  over  by  it.  I  really  did  not  realize  how  rich 
and  varied  his  work  has  been  during  the  last  thirty  years. 
.  .  .  The  White  Shawl  ought  to  be  owned  by  the  Metro- 
politan. ...  In  my  opinion  that  canvas  in  its  simplic- 
ity, breadth,  construction  and  sentiment  will  always 
rank  with  the  best  done  in  our  century  not  in  America 
alone  but  in  the  world." 

In  the  summer  of  1910  Chase  again  had  a  summer 
class  in  Florence.  He  writes  again  of  the  villa  to  his 
daughter  Dorothy  and  comments  with  his  unfailing 
parental  interest  upon  the  photographs  with  which  his 
wife  kept  him  supplied.  "I  see  that  Mary  Content  is 
again  wearing  junipers."  Then  remarks,  feeling  perhaps 
some  consciousness  of  his  lack  of  facility  in  expression: 
"It  is  not  easy  for  me  to  describe  places  and  things 
here  so  you  would  understand,  as  you  have  not  as  yet 
been  here.  Some  day  I  shall  hope  to  have  you  see  it  all 
with  me.  I  go  out  to  the  villa  almost  every  day  and  am 
doing  some  painting  there.  Rollie's  little  pony  is  a  per- 
fect dear.  We  get  on  splendidly  together.  The  pony 
seems  to  enjoy  going  about  as  much  as  I  do.  I  have 
named  her  Lilly,  the  abbreviation  of  Liliputian,  she  is 
so  like  a  tiny  horse." 

Irving  Wiles  and  his  daughter  Gladys  were  in  Florence 
while  Chase  was  there  that  summer  and  afterward  went 

[233  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

on  with  him  to  Venice.  Carroll  Beckwith  and  his  wife 
were  also  temporarily  settled  there  in  a  villa  outside  of 
Florence.  The  friends  had  many  pleasant  meetings. 
Chase  instructed  them  in  the  technic  of  feeding  pigeons 
in  the  Piazza  San  Marco  in  Venice,  entertained  them  at 
the  villa  in  Florence,  selected  a  hat  for  Wiles's  daughter 
in  the  absence  of  any  of  his  own,  and  generally  made 
himself  agreeable. 

Gladys  Wiles  describes  a  brisk  ride  behind  the  pony 
with  the  painter,  who,  apparently  unaware  of  dispropor- 
tionate effects,  snapped  his  whip  with  all  the  air  of  a 
horseman  driving  a  blooded  steed,  while  the  pony's 
little  feet  pattered  over  the  pavement  with  the  exagger- 
ated activity  of  a  black-and-tan  terrier.  She  says  that 
Chase  always  spoke  as  if  his  little  son  might  come  at 
any  minute  to  take  possession  of  the  pony,  but  that 
dream  was  never  realized.  The  undertaking  of  moving 
eight  children  and  household  effects  every  summer  to 
Italy  was  too  much  even  for  Mrs.  Chase's  executiveness 
and  willingness  to  serve  her  husband. 

When  Wiles  went  away  from  Florence  he  left  a  little 
sketch  inscribed   to  Chase  in   his   room,  an   attention 
which  touched  and  pleased  the  painter  indescribably. 
He  alluded  to  it  constantly  afterward.  "Dear  old  Wiles,, 
what  a  beautiful  thing  for  him  to  do.  Wasn't  it  just  like 

[234] 


THE  FIRST  VISIT  TO  FLORENCE 

him  ? "  One  day  after  his  return  to  New  York  the  sketch 
was  missing  and  Chase  was  terribly  distressed.  He 
hunted  for  it  for  days.  He  even  went  to  the  trust  com- 
pany where  his  pictures  were  stored  and  had  everything 
taken  out.  At  last  he  found  it.  A  pupil  who  had  listened 
to  his  lamentations  on  the  subject  says  that  one  day  he 
came  to  her  with  a  radiant  face.  "I  have  found  it,"  he 
said.  "I  have  found  Wiles's  little  sketch."  In  such  fashion 
did  he  treasure  the  tribute  he  valued. 

The  next  letter  to  his  daughter  Dorothy  expresses  his 
great  regret  at  having  been  absent  at  the  celebration  of 
her  birthday.  "Soon,"  he  says,  "I  will  see  your  sweet 
face  again,  and  I  am  glad." 

Certainly  Chase's  children  can  carry  with  them  al- 
ways the  loving  memory  of  a  father's  affection  freely 
expressed. 


[235] 


IN   January    1911    Chase's    oldest    child,   Alice,   was 
married.  Up  to  the  very  day  of  the  wedding  the 
painter  refused  to  take  his  daughter's  engagement  seri- 
ously, much  as  he  liked  the  young  man  of  her  choice. 

"That  child  to  be  married!  Absurd!  Nonsense!"  was 
his  only  remark  when  details  of  the  approaching  cere- 
mony were  mentioned  to  him.  But  when  at  the  very 
last  the  realization  came  that  little  "Cosy"  actually 
was  to  be  married,  the  first  form  that  awareness  took 
in  the  painter's  mind  was  that  art's  tribute  to  the  oc- 
casion should  be  impeccable.  Accordingly,  his  most 
severe  and  concentrated  attention  was  bestowed  upon 
the  arrangement  of  the  pictures  on  the  walls  of  his 
home,  his  own  and  those  of  other  painters.  The  result 
was  dissatisfaction.  He  decided  to  have  them  all  changed. 
But  when  this  imagined  improvement  was  accomplished, 
his  final  verdict  was  that  they  had,  after  all,  been  better 
as  they  were.  Hastily  recalling  his  man  in  the  act  of 
removing  the  step-ladder,  he  ordered  them  to  be  placed 
in  their  original  positions.  In  the  ardor  of  this  task  a  pot 
of  palms  that  proved  to  be  abnormally  full  of  earth  was 
overturned  upon  the  carpet,  and  a  great ^deal  of  dried 

[236] 


A  FAMILY  EVENT 

Christinas  green — for  it  was  holiday  time — was  scattered 
upon  the  floor  and  corduroy-covered  furniture,  where  it 
clung  tenaciously.  When  the  mother  of  the  bride,  only 
partly  forewarned  by  the  sounds  of  scratching  and 
scraping  from  below,  descended  the  stairs  to  take  a  last 
look  at  the  drawing-room  before  the  arrival  of  the 
wedding-guests,  she  silently  and  swiftly  removed  her 
pearl-gray  gloves  and  spent  the  remaining  moments  in 
a  greater  activity  than  she  had  expected. 

In  short,  Chase  did  not  display  his  usual  savoir-faire 
upon  this  occasion,  which  he  only  too  evidently  found 
upsetting.  Both  wife  and  daughter  were  relieved  when 
his  part  of  the  ceremony  was  over,  as  he  had  required  a 
great  deal  of  prompting  in  his  role  and  showed  an  almost 
feeble-minded  dependence  upon  the  bride  and  the  bride's 
mother  to  help  him  through.  But  two  years  later,  when 
his  second  daughter,  Koto,  was  married,  he  had  evi- 
dently grown  accustomed  to  the  idea  that  daughters 
are  liable  to  marry,  for  he  did  nothing  to  upset  the 
equilibrium  of  the  occasion. 

The  afternoon  of  the  day  that  Koto  was  married, 
Chase's  first  grandchild,  Dorothy  Sullivan,  the  child  of 
his  oldest  daughter,  was  christened. 

In  the  summer  of  1911  Chase  went  abroad  again,  first 
to  Paris  and  London,  then  to  Florence  to  teach  his  sum- 

[237] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

mer  class  and  enjoy  his  new  toy,  the  villa.  He  made  a 
number  of  studies  of  the  villa,  but  in  spite  of  the  fine 
appreciation  of  the  Italian  atmosphere  they  reveal, 
they  lack  the  inspiration  and  freshness  of  his  Shinne- 
cock  landscapes. 

In  one  of  his  letters  to  Mrs.  Chase  from  London  that 
year  Chase  speaks  of  his  visit  to  the  Royal  Academy 
Exhibition,  which  he  finds  "more  interesting  than  usual." 
"Sargent  has  some  fine  things,"  he  writes,  "a  portrait, 
a  big  decoration,  part  of  the  Boston  series,  very  fine,  also 
some  landscapes.  After  lunch  I  went  to  see  Brangwyn,  he 
seemed  glad  to  see  me.  He  is  doing  a  big  decoration." 

In  1912  Chase  gave  up  his  position  as  instructor  at 
the  League,  and  his  New  York  teaching  thereafter  was 
confined  to  his  private  class  in  the  Fourth  Avenue  Studios. 
That  summer  was  spent  in  London,  Paris,  Bruges,  and 
the  Dutch  cities.  His  class  was  held  in  Bruges.  Mrs. 
Chase  and  his  son  Dana  crossed  with  him.  In  Paris  they 
all  went  to  their  first  futurist  exhibition  together.  Mrs. 
Chase  and  her  son  reached  home  first  after  this  curious 
experience,  and  while  waiting  for  Chase's  return  Mrs. 
Chase  conceived  the  idea  of  making  a  futurist  exhibition 
as  a  surprise  for  the  painter.  They  got  to  work  at  once 
with  colored  pencils,  and  upon  Chase's  return  held  him 
up  at  the  door  and  demanded  admission.  Till  the  last 

[238  ] 


A  FAMILY  EVENT 

Chase  treasured  in  his  studio  one  of  these  sketches,  a 
portrait  of  him  by  his  wife  done  in  the  post-impressionist 
manner — in  all  respects  an  excellent  imitation  of  the  sort 
of  thing  indigenous  to  such  exhibits. 

"But  you  see  it  really  looks  like  me,"  he  used  to  say 
with  what  was  certainly  a  most  impersonal  pleasure  in 
the  intentionally  horrible  production. 

During  his  stay  in  Paris  that  summer  he  went  to  see 
La  Touche  with  Mrs.  Chase,  who  describes  the  uncon- 
scious humor  of  the  occasion.  La  Touche  could  not 
speak  English  nor  Chase  French.  This  fact  did  not  pre- 
vent their  having  a  most  lively  conversation  about  art 
and  the  pictures  in  the  studio  without  the  aid  of  an  in- 
terpreter. Both  painters  fairly  glowed  with  enthusiasm. 
They  liked  each  other  immensely  and  apparently 
parted  with  all  the  sensations  of  having  had  a  most 
delightful  and  congenial  interchange  of  opinion.  Who 
shall  say  that  in  that  subtler  undercurrent  that  can 
underlie  words  there  had  not  been  something  of  com- 
munication ? 

Chase  painted  two  of  his  most  notable  still-life  pictures 
in  Bruges — the  study  called  Just  Onions  and  the  Belgian 
Melon,  which  in  richness  of  color  and  texture  and  dis- 
tinction of  handling  can  stand  with  the  best  still  life  of 
the  old  masters. 

[239] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

The  winter  of  1912-1913  he  had  a  large  class  of  pri- 
vate pupils  and  worked  daily  in  his  own  studio.  His  con- 
tribution to  the  exhibition  of  portrait-painters  in  Febru- 
ary was  an  excellent  portrait  of  Robert  Underwood 
Johnson,  concerning  which  he  received  a  letter  from 
Charles  Dana  Gibson  which  particularly  pleased  him. 

"DEAR  CHASE, 

:<Your  portrait  of  Johnson  is  great.  It's  a  fine  thing 
to  go  on  doing  better  and  better  all  your  life.  Here's 
hoping  you'll  live  to  be  a  hundred. 

:t  Yours  always, 

"C.  D.  GIBSON." 

In  the  summer  of  1913  Chase  again  had  a  class  in 
Italy,  this  time  in  Venice.  It  was  his  last  European  class. 
His  wife  and  his  daughter  Dorothy  sailed  with  him  but 
left  him  in  June  in  Paris  to  return  to  Shinnecock. 

The  story  of  the  summer  Chase  tells  after  his  fashion 
in  his  letters.  From  Venice  he  complains  of  the  constant 
rain  and  speaks  of  painting  from  his  sheltered  balcony. 

"I  think  perhaps  I  got  a  fairly  good  thing  today,"  he 
remarks.  "The  one  I  made  yesterday  is  well  enough  to 
keep  and  show  you  when  I  get  home."  Remembering 
the  masterly  quality  of  these  small  Venetian  sketches, 

[240] 


A  BELGIAN  MELON. 

Painted  in  Bruges  in  19H. 


A  FAMILY  EVENT 

one  realizes  the  sincerity  of  Chase's  modesty  disclosed 
in  the  intimate  frankness  of  these  home  letters. 

Later  on  he  inquires:  "Has  Helen  done  anything  in 
the  way  of  sketching,  and  have  you  made  a  photograph 
of  Rollie  in  the  English  messenger  cap?  Did  he  like  it? 
I  wish  I  could  see  you  all  tonight.  Has  dear  little  baby 
Dorothy  grown  much  ?  I  suppose  you  are  seeing  a  lot  of 
her.  I  wish  I  could. 

"Tomorrow  we  go  to  the  Doges'  Palace.  Do  you  re- 
member the  time  we  went  there  and  you  made  the 
photograph  from  the  balcony?  Tonight  I  met  all  of  the 
Rolshovens  at  the  Piazzi." 

The  next  letter  speaks  of  hunting  a  studio  and  of  the 
industry  of  his  class,  and  another  is  filled  with  enthusi- 
asm for  a  perfect  Venetian  day  in  which  he  painted  all 
morning.  He  refers  to  an  afternoon  visit  with  his  pupils 
to  the  studio  of  Signorina  Ciardi,  an  Italian  painter. 
"She  is  a  splendid  artist,"  he  remarks  (with  two  under- 
linings).  "I  wish  you  could  see  her  work.  She  speaks 
English  quite  well  and  was  most  agreeable  to  the  stu- 
dents." 

Chase's  admiration  for  Signorina  Ciardi  was  such  that 
he  very  much  resented  the  fact  that  the  Venetians  did 
not  appreciate  her  at  her  true  value.  Once  an  Ital- 
ian at  whose  palace  he  was  calling  remarked  in  the 

[  241  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

characteristic  manner  of  the  Old  World  disparaging 
the  younger  generation,  "Oh,  yes,  Signorina  Ciardi  she 
is  very  well,  but  her  father,  ah,  you  should  see  his  work, 
he  is  a  great  artist!"  Whereupon  Chase  very  promptly 
set  his  host  right:  "Ah,  but  that  is  where  you  are  entirely 
wrong,  sir;  it  is  Signorina  Ciardi,  make  no  mistake, 
Signorina  Ciardi,  she  is  the  great  artist!" 

Chase's  next  letter  to  his  wife  speaks  of  his  unsuccess- 
ful hunt  for  a  studio.  "Fortunately,"  he  adds,  "there  is 
always  something  to  paint  here.  I  want  a  studio  to  paint 
fish  in.  Tomorrow  I  am  going  to  try  down  by  the  Rialto 
near  the  fish  market."  (It  was  there  that  he  painted  the 
Fish  Market  in  1878.)  "This  afternoon  I  went  out  to  the 
Lido  with  my  paint  box  but  did  nothing  because  of  the 
great  crowds  everywhere.  How  is  baby  Dorothy?  You 
must  be  getting  lots  of  pleasure  out  of  her.  Love  her  up 
for  me.  I  would  love  to  see  her  sweet  little  face  again. 
I  was  in  the  piazza  again  tonight — music  and  the  Rol- 
shoven  party.  All  was  pleasant." 

The  next  day  he  went  again,  this  time  with  the  Rol- 
shovens,  to  see  Miss  Ciardi  and  reports:  "She  had  some 
new  and  interesting  work."  Of  an  interior  begun  the  day 
before  he  says:  "  I  am  in  hopes  of  making  something  out 
of  it."  He  tells  of  taking  the  students  to  the  Scuola  San 
Rocco  to  see  the  Tintorettos,  which  he  characterizes  as 

[  2-42] 


A  FAMILY  EVENT 

"very  fine,"  and  comments  briefly  upon  the  death  of  La 
Touche,  whose  work  he  greatly  admired.  "He  will  be 
missed.  His  exhibition  in  the  last  salon  was  the  best  in 
the  exhibition." 

Another  letter  encloses  a  sketch  showing  the  com- 
position of  a  still-life  which  he  painted  for  his  class. 
"The  students  now  want  to  paint  still  life  the  rest  of  the 
time  while  here."  Further  on  he  remarks:  "I  am  reading 
*  Twenty  Years  After'  piecemeal.  I  find  it  interesting. 
What  a  lot  of  intrigues  there  must  have  been  in  those 
days ! "  Chase  never  lost  his  simple  enjoyment  of  the 
emotion  of  astonishment. 

A  later  letter  from  Venice  mentions  a  visit  to  Madame 
Fortuny.  "She  is  an  old,  well-preserved  lady  of  seventy- 
three.  She  owns  a  small  palace  here  where  she  has  lived 
for  a  number  of  years.  At  the  time  of  her  husband's  sale 
after  his  death  at  Paris  she  brought  back  many  of  his 
studies  and  many  of  the  fine  stuffs.  The  studio  and 
begun  pictures  are  splendid  and  the  stuffs  are  mag- 
nificent. It  was  a  rare  treat  which  I  am  sorry  you  could 
not  have  enjoyed  with  me.  She  asked  me  to  come  again 
to  see  some  etchings  by  Fortuny  and  some  by  Goya.  Of 
course  I  will  go.  I  feel  a  fresh  spell  of  enthusiasm  after 
seeing  the  things.  Oh,  Toady,  I  wish  we  had  the  means ! 
We  could  then  have  fine  things  too." 

[243] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

A  pupil  in  Chase's  class  who  went  with  him  to  visit 
Madame  Fortuny  says  that  the  great  artist's  widow  had 
a  real  understanding  of  art  and  expressed  a  great  desire 
to  see  Chase's  work,  but  as  the  senora  was  old  and  not 
very  strong  she  did  not  feel  able  to  make  the  journey  to 
his  studio.  Determined  that  if  Madame  Fortuny  wanted 
to  see  his  pictures  she  should,  Chase  proceeded  to  take 
the  mountain  to  Mahomet.  He  filled  a  gondola  with  his 
work — Venetian  sketches,  fish  pictures  and  portrait  heads 
— and  gave  the  Spanish  painter's  widow  a  private  view  at 
her  own  house.  Both  Chase's  work  and  the  gracefulness 
of  his  act  delighted  Madame  Fortuny  inexpressibly. 

Another  letter  from  Chase  to  his  wife  concerning  his 
unfinished  picture  records  a  typical  painter  state  of  mind 
at  that  stage  of  his  work. 

"While  I  don't  know  what  it  will  look  like  tomorrow, 
I  feel  now  that  I've  got  something  that  you  will  care  for. 
I  will  tell  you  in  my  next  letter  how  I  find  it."  Before  he 
concludes  he  acknowledges  with  profuse  gratitude  the 
receipt  of  some  home-made  butter-scotch. 

The  next  letter  comments  enthusiastically  on  some 
photographs  Mrs.  Chase  had  sent  of  the  two  younger 
children,  Mary  Content  and  Dana.  "I  think  those  of 
Mary  are  quite  the  best  you  have  made.  They  are 
splendid,  composition  and  all.  Hurrah  for^you!" 

[244] 


A  FAMILY  EVENT 

In  September  Chase  sailed  for  home,  unaware  that  he 
had  taught  his  last  European  class. 

One  of  his  greatest  pleasures  during  those  summers 
in  Europe  was  the  buying  of  presents  for  his  wife  and 
children.  According  to  his  travelling  companions  his 
thoughts  on  the  homeward  trip  were  entirely  concerned 
with  anticipations  of  his  home-coming,  the  joy  of  see- 
ing his  family  again,  their  probable  pleasure  in  his  gifts. 
"Won't  Mary  Content  be  lovely  in  that  little  blue  coat  ?" 
he  would  exclaim  out  of  a  mid-ocean  revery,  or  "That 
flame-colored  lining  on  Dorothy,  eh?"  And  again:  "That 
blue-and-gold  scarf  will  just  suit  Helen."  "He  bought 
things  like  a  prince,"  said  a  pupil  who  was  with  him  on 
some  of  his  shopping  expeditions.  "Nothing  was  too 
good  for  them;  the  price  was  not  even  to  be  asked  when 
he  thought  he  had  found  something  they  would  like." 


[245] 


CHAPTER  XXII 
CALIFORNIA 

IN  the  spring  of  1914  Chase  went  abroad  again  for  a 
short  trip.  He  called,  as  usual,  on  Brangwyn  and 
Shannon  soon  after  his  arrival  in  London.  In  a  letter  to 
Mrs.  Chase  from  there  he  speaks  of  the  work  of.  those 
painters. 

"Shannon  had  a  sitter  on  a  portrait  but  saw  me. 
He  has  a  fine  exhibit  at  the  Royal  Academy  this  year. 
I  telephoned  Sargent  this  morning  and  am  to  see  him 
tomorrow  afternoon.  Harrison  and  I  are  going  together. 
Brangwyn  is  doing  the  big  decorations  for  the  Pan- 
American  Exposition  at  San  Francisco.  They  are  fine." 

Chase  had  a  great  admiration  for  Brangwyn's  work 
and  never  went  to  London  without  going  to  see  him. 
Entering  his  house  that  day  he  stopped  to  look  at  a  small 
picture  by  one  of  the  early  Italian  painters — not  the 
type  of  thing  that  usually  appealed  to  him — and  ex- 
claimed: "Where  did  you  get  this  beautiful  thing?" 

Brangwyn  was  delighted.  "Do  you  know,"  he  said, 
"that  of  all  the  painters  who  have  passed  that  picture 
you  are  the  first  one  that  has  really  seen  it?" 

The  trip  though  pleasant  was  not  eventful.  In  May 
Chase  returned  to  America.  It  was  his>  last  crossing. 

[246] 


CALIFORNIA 

In  June  he  went  to  California,  where  he  had  arranged 
to  hold  a  summer  class  at  Carmel-by-the-Sea.  He  lo- 
cated himself  at  Del  Monte,  a  short  motor  ride  from 
Carmel.  Mrs.  Chase  went  with  him,  but  returned  after 
a  short  stay.  In  a  letter  written  to  her  from  Del  Monte 
soon  after  her  departure  he  tells  of  securing  a  small 
studio  at  Monterey,  where  he  "expects  to  get  a  lot 
done."  And,  "you  made  me  very  happy  all  the  time  you 
were  with  me,"  he  adds  with  his  unfailing  appreciation 
and  affection. 

Another  letter  expresses  profound  gratitude  for  a  box 
of  butter-scotch.  "You  are  so  thoughtful,"  he  exclaims. 
"The  others  are  almost  used  up."  He  speaks  of  receiv- 
ing a  "nice  letter  from  Arthur,"  his  son-in-law,  then 
touches  on  his  day's  work.  "I  painted  in  my  little  studio 
today  laying  in  a  large  picture." 

Writing  again  from  Del  Monte,  he  describes  his  day's 
imusement.  "Today  I  went  out  with  a  young  artist 
to  see  the  Rodero  at  Salenas.  Do  you  remember  we  saw 
the  sign  swinging  across  the  street  at  Monterey?  The 
Rodero  is  a  gathering  of  cowboys  and  cowgirls,  the 
performance  is  most  interesting.  I  wish  you  could 
see  it."  He  records  his  pleasure  in  the  family  letters 
and  photographs.  "The  one  of  dear  little  Dorothy 
walking  with  you  is  sweet/  You  complain  that  you  do 

[247] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

not  get  letters.  I  can't  understand  it  as  I  write  every 
day.'* 

He  refers  again  to  the  still-life  he  had  started.  "My 
last  fish  picture  I  believe  to  be  my  best.  Tonight  I  am  to 
give  my  class  and  the  Carmel  high-brows  my  talk  on 
Whistler.  I  wish  you  were  here  to  give  me  your  sym- 
pathetic support.  I  do  so  wish  you  and  the  children 
could  be  out  here  in  this  wonderful  cool  climate." 

Later  he  writes  of  his  full-length  portrait  of  Miss 
Townsley  called  The  Flame,  his  last  kimono  portrait: 
"I  believe  it  is  one  of  my  best  things.  The  students  are 
quite  enthusiastic  about  it.  When  you  see  it  you  will 
tell  me  if  it  is  any  good."  A  letter  to  his  son  Dana,  written 
about  this  time,  shows  his  constant  affectionate  remem- 
brance of  his  children  when  separated  from  them. 

"DEAR  ROLLIE, 

"You  must  have  begun  to  think  I  had  forgotten  you 
and  your  brother  and  sisters  altogether.  No!!"  [Three 
underlinings.]  "I  liked  the  picture  your  Mama  sent  me 
of  you  on  that  funny  looking  cycle  or  whatever  it  is. 
You  appear  to  be  standing  straight  up  and  I  can't  make 
it  out.  Mary  Content  looks  as  if  she  were  about  to  split 
herself.  I  will  soon  be  home  now.  I  have  some  new 
stories  to  tell  you.  I  wish  you  were  all  oiat  here  to  come 

[248] 


CHASE  PAINTING  FOR  HIS  CLASS  AT  CARMEL,  CALIFORNIA. 

From  a  photograph. 


CALIFORNIA 

home  with  me.  There's  lots  of  country  out  here.  Be  good 
and  be  glad  to  see  me  when  I  get  home.  Give  my  love  to 
your  good  mother  and  all  the  others. 

"Love. 

"PAPA." 

A  few  days  later  he  writes  to  his  wife:  "I  worked  all 
day  in  my  studio.  I  am  doing  a  study  of  Townsley."  He 
describes  some  monotypes' he  has  made.  "I  found  that 
impressions  could  be  had  with  a  clothes  wringer  so  I 
got  one.  I  will  send  you  some  to  show  you  what  I  am 
doing  in  that  line.  I  am  enclosing  another  photo  of  my- 
self. I  am  afraid  you  will  grow  tired  of  them.  As  the 
students  give  them  to  me  I  send  them  to  you.  I  wish  I 
could  have  been  home  for  Dorothy's  birthday." 

In  another  letter  we  find  him  thanking  his  wife  most 
gratefully  for  some  paint  rags  sent  in  a  newspaper. 
Referring  to  his  grandchild  he  remarks:  "You  must 
have  enjoyed  having  sweet  little  Dorothy  with  you. 
Two  sweet  Dorothys  at  one  time  is  a  lot." 

Another  day  he  refers  to  the  enthusiasm  of  the  stu- 
dents over  his  portrait  of  Miss  Townsley,  a  tribute  he 
always  prized  highly,  and  adds:  "I  think  myself  it  is  a 
canvas  you  will  care  to  have  me  exhibit." 

Again  he  encloses  the  plan  of  a  portrait  about  which 

[249  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

he  is  more  explicit  than  usual.  "The  dress  is  old  gold 
color  and  a  blue  kimona  background.  I  think  you  would 
like  the  combination.  The  girl  is  rather  pretty.  I  made 
some  monotypes  in  the  studio  this  afternoon.  Tomorrow 
I  will  send  you  some.  I  played  a  short  game  of  billiards 
and  was  beaten." 

A  letter  written  in  September,  shortly  before  his  re- 
turn, tells  of  a  stag-dinner  given  in  his  honor.  "Many 
speeches  lauding  me  were  given,"  he  relates,  with  the 
childlike  pleasure  he  had  in  appreciation.  He  also  makes 
mention  of  another  portrait  upon  which  he  was  working 
at  the  time  with  his  characteristic  lack  of  special  com- 
ment. "She  is  a  very  picturesque  subject  and  I  am  en- 
joying it  very  much.  Today  I  finished  the  outdoor  thing 
I  was  doing  of  which  I  told  you.  I  had  another  game  of 
billiards  just  now  with  the  attendant  and  beat  him.  I 
am  beginning  to  call  back  some  of  the  shots  I  used  to 
make." 

The  route  home  from  California  led  through  the  Grand 
Canon.  When  Chase  heard  that  two  of  his  friends  in- 
tended to  stop  off  there  he  was  scornful.  Why  did  they 
wish  to  see  that  freak  of  nature  ?  To  Chase  that  which 
was  not  paintable  never  seemed  worth  looking  at.  The 
canon  he  conceived  of  as  panoramic.  Being,  however,  a 
gregarious  soul,  he  stopped  off  with  hia>  friends,  pooh- 

[250] 


poohing  a  little,  but  when  he  saw  the  impressive  sight  of 
the  great  gorge  he  was  moved  as  one  would  be  sure  he 
would  be. 

But  the  stop-over  was  shadowed  by  an  unfortunate  oc- 
currence, for  Chase,  having  met  with  some  unfair  treat- 
ment in  business  matters  in  California,  discovered  that 
his  finances  were  at  a  low  ebb.  He  was,  therefore,  unable 
to  make  any  purchases,  and  finding,  of  course,  in  the  va- 
riegated stock  of  the  large  shop  there  some  things  he 
wanted  to  buy,  he  could  only  hover  over  them  like  a 
wretched  little  boy  with  no  pocket-money. 

The  winter  of  1915  he  painted  a  number  of  portraits, 
among  them  several  of  his  own  children,  one  of  his 
daughter  Dorothy  in  an  eighteenth-century  pink-satin 
costume  that  he  had  purchased  for  the  purpose,  a  seated 
half-length  portrait  of  his  youngest  son  Roland  Dana, 
and  another  of  his  second  daughter,  Koto.  Not  any  of 
these  pictures  are  representative  of  Chase's  best  work, 
but  a  certain  personal  interest  naturally  attaches  to 
them. 

In  1915  Chase  received  an  order  to  paint  a  self  portrait 
for  a  museum  in  his  native  State,  in  the  town  of  Rich- 
mond, Indiana.  The  amount  offered  was  only  sufficient 
to  pay  for  a  head  portrait,  and  that  was  all  that  the 
donor  of  the  picture  expected  to  receive.  But  Chase,  who 

[251] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

delighted  in  doing  the  generous  thing  and  knew  how  to 
do  it  charmingly,  planned  a  surprise  for  Richmond.  He 
painted  a  large  canvas,  a  three-quarter  length  figure 
standing,  palette  in  hand,  before  his  easel  in  his  Fourth 
Avenue  Studio.  It  was  finished  in  November,  1915.  The 
pleasure  that  he  took  in  doing  this  and  in  keeping  his 
act  a  surprise  up  to  the  moment  that  the  portrait  was 
shown  to  the  envoys  from  Richmond  was  characteristic 
of  artist  and  man. 

Having  been  asked  to  serve  on  the  Art  Committee  of 
the  Pan-American  Exposition,  Chase  went  to  California 
again  that  summer,  but  he  did  not  have  a  class.  An  en- 
tire room  in  the  art  building  was  devoted  to  his  work, 
making  an  exhibit  which  the  painter  himself  felt  to  be 
representative  of  his  best  work.  He  also  designed  and 
personally  supervised  the  decoration  and  arrangement 
of  the  room. 

Throughout  the  winter  of  1915  Chase  continued  with 
his  private  class  in  the  Fourth  Avenue  Studio.  It  was  his 
last  year  of  teaching. 


0 

{252] 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

CHASE,  THE  MAN 

CHASE  was  perhaps  more  individualized  as  an  artist 
than  as  a  man.  On  the  human  side  he  was  a  simple 
person.  Witty  as  well  as  analytical  on  the  subject  of  his 
art,  he  thought  simply  about  the  things  outside  his 
sphere  of  interest  where  he  thought  at  all.  Of  those  ut- 
terances of  his  that  were  so  entertaining  at  the  moment 
much  of  the  flavor  escapes  in  print.  Chase  had  the 
actor's  gift  of  creating  the  little  situation,  of  giving 
point  and  effect  to  his  utterances,  whether  satirical  or 
violent,  and  his  satire  was  never  intentionally  unkind. 
To  quote  Birge  Harrison:  "Chase  was  the  simplest  and 
most  sincere  of  men  and  also  one  of  the  kindest  as  many 
a  struggling  young  artist  can  testify,  and  this  last  trait 
always  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  most  dominating  note 
in  his  character.  But  he  could  be  quite  savage  in  his 
outspoken  dislike  of  all  shams  and  pretenses." 

No  man  ever  lived  more  completely  in  the  atmosphere 
and  idea  of  art  than  Chase  did.  He  had  no  other  com- 
pelling interests  except  his  family,  and,  indeed,  in  his 
devotion  to  them  art  was  inextricably  intertwined.  At 
his  first  meeting  with  his  wife,  then  a  picturesque  child, 
the  strong  impression  she  made  upon  his  eye  took  the 

[253] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

form  of  a  desire  to  paint  her.  His  children  he  painted 
almost  from  the  moment  of  their  birth.  Art  was  talked 
in  his  home  as  it  was  in  his  studio. 

Aside  from  his  personal  feeling  and  the  practical 
convenience  of  propinquity,  it  was  evident  that  some- 
thing in  his  wife's  type  especially  appealed  to  the  painter. 
Yet  few  of  the  pictures  are  portraits  in  the  exact  sense 
of  the  word,  and  therein  lies  one  of  the  mysteries  of  the 
art  of  portraiture.  Mrs.  Chase  never  grew  to  dislike 
posing,  as  many  members  of  painters'  families  do.  In- 
deed, she  was  as  frequently  a  volunteer  as  a  conscript, 
devising  costumes  suitable  to  her  type  with  the  purpose 
of  pleasing  the  painter's  eye  or  of  suggesting  a  subject. 
She  says  that  he  seldom  kept  her  posing  long  enough  to 
be  fatiguing.  The  sureness  of  his  seeing  made  the  process 
swift. 

Chase  was  not  a  reader,  George  Moore's  "Lectures 
upon  Art"  being  one  of  the  very  few  books  of  this  sort 
that  he  ever  enjoyed,  since  he  had  the  painter's  belief 
that  only  people  who  paint  are  qualified  to  write  about 
it.  He  bought  editions  of  books  for  his  library  principally 
with  reference  to  their  appearance  and  the  spots  of  color 
they  would  contribute  to  the  room.  He  did  not  indulge 
much  in  sports,  and,  except  for  his  skill  in  shooting,  did 
not  become  expert  in  any  of  them.  H#  enjoyed  music 

[254] 


THE  BLACK  KIMONO. 

Portrait  of  Chase's  daughter  Alice. 


CHASE,  THE  MAN 

and  the  theatre  rather  in  the  spirit  of  light  amusement 
than  as  seriously  considered  arts,  but  he  had  one  other 
supreme  interest — that  passion  of  the  collector  which 
was  curiously  strong  in  him.  Indeed,  his  impulse  to  buy 
was  almost  abnormal,  in  that  he  seemed  to  be  increas- 
ingly unable  to  resist  its  promptings.  That  he  was  ex- 
travagant as  the  result  of  his  desire  to  possess  the  thing 
that  attracted  his  eye  cannot  be  denied,  but  it  must 
have  been  apparent  to  any  one  who  knew  him  that  he 
was  utterly  unpractical  in  all  matters  of  finance.  Some 
bills  were  paid  twice,  others  not  paid  at  all.  At  times 
when  buying  a  present  or  some  particular  object  that  had 
cast  a  spell  upon  his  imagination  so  that  he  felt  he  must 
have  it  at  any  price,  he  spent  as  if  his  treasury  was  in- 
exhaustible, but  in  the  case  of  pictures  he  quite  often  got 
a  bargain  through  his  knowledge  of  values  and  his  abil- 
ity as  an  expert  to  judge  the  genuineness  of  a  canvas. 

One  time  in  Spain  he  discovered  a  Greco  believed  by 
its  owner  to  be  a  Murillo,  incredible  as  that  may  seem. 
Chase,  not  having  much  money  with  him,  made  a  de- 
posit on  the  Greco  and  told  the  woman  to  hold  it  for  him. 
Meantime  Zuloaga  strolled  in,  discovered  Chase's  dis- 
covery, promptly  paid  the  woman  the  whole  amount 
and  bore  away  his  unlawful  prize.  When  Chase  returned 
with  the  balance  and  found  out  what  had  happened  he 

[255] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

was  beside  himself.  Time  did  not  soften  this  blow,  and 
later  in  Paris  he  hunted  up  Zuloaga  in  the  vain  hope  of 
appealing  to  his  better  nature,  and  very  politely  and 
pathetically  told  his  little  story;  but  the  Spanish  painter 
was  unmoved,  in  fact  he  was  quite  unpleasant  and  even 
sneered  at  poor  Chase,  who  for  long  afterward  suffered 
at  the  very  mention  of  Zuloaga  or  Greco. 

Sometimes  Chase  bought  things  that  did  not  seem 
worth  his  buying  where  some  quality  of  tone  or  color 
attracted  him  or  suggested  its  possible  value  in  a  still- 
life  study,  or  where  his  desire  to  encourage  a  struggling 
artist  made  him  anxious  to  discover  any  promising 
touch.  He  tried  so  hard  to  find  merit  in  the  work  of  a 
person  who  was  really  trying.  He  longed  so  to  give  the 
assistance  of  his  encouragement  that  not  infrequently 
he  would  buy  from  the  poor  painter — poor  in  every  sense 
of  the  word — things  that  he  would  have  criticised  se- 
verely if  done  by  one  of  his  pupils.  But  in  general  he 
bought  like  the  connoisseur  he  was. 

In  his  fondness  for  tangible  beauty  he  used  often  to 
carry  about  in  his  pocket  small  objects  that  he  enjoyed 
looking  at — a  rare  ring,  an  interesting  button,  or  some 
sort  of  curiosity.  These  he  would  pull  out  to  show  callers 
or  the  called-upon  as  a  great  treat.  At  one  time  his  favor- 
ite object  was  a  small  Peruvian  mummy  head.  This  he 

[256] 


CHASE,  THE  MAN 

had  with  him  once  in  Paris  while  visiting  the  studios  of 
the  French  painters.  The  friend  who  was  with  him, 
another  artist,  was  somewhat  embarrassed  because  Chase 
after  unconsciously  giving  the  misleading  impression 
that  he  was  about  to  present  the  mummy's  head  would 
placidly  return  it  to  his  pocket. 

But  the  story  of  a  thing,  its  authenticity  even,  except 
in  the  case  of  a  picture,  was  of  no  interest  to  Chase. 
He  did  not  know  such  facts  because  he  did  not  care  about 
them.  His  interest  was  supremely  and  simply  the  artist's 
lust  of  the  eye.  He  cared  how  the  thing  looked,  not  a 
jot  what  its  history  was,  however  interesting.  That  was  a 
characteristic  quality,  not  a  limitation. 

Yet  he  seldom  felt  a  strong  attachment  to  things  in 
spite  of  his  collecting  mania — for  it  almost  amounted  to 
that.  A  few  objects,  not  always  the  most  interesting  or 
valuable  ones  he  possessed,  he  seemed  to  have  a  per- 
sonal feeling  about,  but  in  general  his  pleasure  in  a  thing 
seemed  to  be  the  finding  of  it.  Not  so  with  pictures.  He 
could  not  bear  to  part  with  a  picture  he  loved;  he  seemed 
to  feel  as  if  he  had  lost  part  of  himself  in  giving  it  up. 

At  one  of  those  periods  usually  recurrent  in  artists' 
lives  when  a  temporary  economy  seemed  desirable,  it 
was  judged  wise  to  part  with  some  pictures  out  of  Chase's 
large  and  valuable  collection.  He  came  home  from  the 

[257] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

sale  as  from  a  funeral  and  would  not  be  comforted,  but 
one  day  not  long  afterward  he  returned  to  his  family 
in  excellent  spirits.  They  were  not  surprised  when  the 
explanation  proved  to  be  that  he  had  bought  back  sev- 
eral of  his  choicest  art  treasures — at  a  considerable  ad- 
vance upon  the  price  he  had  sold  them  for! 

And  he  was  generous  in  giving.  Once  he  bestowed  a 
cherished  Vollon  upon  his  son  Roland,  who  had  been 
patient  in  posing  for  him.  Quite  often  he  gave  sketches 
to  his  pupils.  Frequently  he  gave  the  same  sketch  to 
several  people  in  succession,  having  absent-mindedly 
forgotten  his  previous  generosity.  Quite  a  number  of 
friends  and  relatives  are  thus  the  honorable  owners  of 
pictures  touchingly  inscribed  to  some  one  else  on  the 
back.  The  recipient  who  bore  away  his  prize  on  the  spot 
was  usually  the  one  who  gained  possession  of  it. 

Chase  was  a  famous  raconteur;  more  than  that,  he  had 
a  talent  for  impersonation  that  almost  any  monologist 
might  envy.  German,  Hebrew,  African,  or  Irishman  he 
could  imitate  equally  well.  With  that  ability  to  imitate 
and  the  quite  indescribable  gift  of  implication  and  sug- 
gestion that  he  also  possessed  he  created  effects  of 
which  it  is  impossible  to  give  any  impression  in  de- 
scription. A  certain  tale  of  two  intoxicated  persons,  much 
to  Chase's  amusement,  was  a  great  favorite  with  his 

[258] 


CHASE,  THE  MAN 

children,  who  never  tired  of  hearing  it.  "Tell  us  the 
Robinson  story,"  they  would  beg  when  he  was  in  the 
mood  to  entertain  them. 

This  story  dealt  with  two  convivial  gentlemen  who 
had  been  making  a  day  of  it,  but  as  the  tea-hour  ap- 
proached and  ladies  began  to  enter  the  restaurant  they 
felt  it  necessary  to  brace  up  and  make  a  proper  appear- 
ance. 

"Do  you  know  Robinson,"  one  intoxicated  gentle- 
man then  inquired  of  the  other  in  the  attempt  at  easy 
conversation.  "No,"  said  the  other  with  great  interest. 
"W-w-what's  his  name?" 

"I  dunno,"  replied  the  first  intoxicated  gentleman. 
That  was  all,  but  the  expression,  the  tone,  the  demoraliz- 
ing touches  to  hair,  beard,  and  moustache  made  the  dig- 
nified painter  into  the  drunkest  being  imaginable  as  he 
told  the  story. 

Sometimes  on  shipboard  Chase  would  entertain  his 
fellow  passengers  with  an  evening  of  his  stories.  At  one 
time  in  his  life  he  says  that  he  seriously  entertained  the 
idea  of  becoming  an  actor. 

Chase  did  not  forget  faces,  but  he  seldom  remembered 
names  except  those  of  his  intimate  friends  and  pupils  of 
long  standing.  Not  infrequently  he  failed  to  recall  the 
names  of  men  high  in  the  ranks  of  his  profession  if  he 

[259] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

did  not  meet  them  often.  Maxfield  Parrish  in  a  letter  to 
Mrs.  Chase  refers  to  an  old  joke  on  the  subject  of  Chase's 
non-recognition  of  him,  Mrs.  Chase  having  insisted  that 
at  their  last  meeting  Chase  really  had  remembered  him. 

"MY  DEAR  MRS.  CHASE, 

"No,  he  didn't!  I  introduced  myself  as  Smith  and  he 
remembered  me  at  once,  was  most  charmed  and  ah  to 
be  sure  and  all  that.  But  I  think  if  I  keep  it  up  long 
enough  my  face  such  as  it  is  will  finally  sink  in.  The  name 
of  course  is  unimportant." 

But  the  egoist  who  came  into  competition  with  Chase 
was  not  likely  to  get  the  best  of  it. 

When  the  violinist  Wilhelmj  came  for  his  first  sitting 
at  Chase's  studio  he  was  kept  waiting  a  few  minutes. 
The  artist  arrived  to  find  the  virtuoso  in  a  tempera- 
mental state  of  excitement. 

"Do  you  realize,"  Wilhelmj  violently  demanded  of  the 
painter,  "that  my  time  is  worth  a  thousand  dollars  a 
minute  ?  " 

"Indeed,"  replied  Chase  instantly,  without  a  change 
of  expression.  "Mine  is  worth  two  thousand." 

Another  answer  of  his  to  a  rather  persistent  author  who 
attended  his  class  criticisms  showed  Chase's  quickness 

[  260  ] 


CHASE,  THE  MAN 

in  retort.  The  writer  had  wanted  him  to  enter  a  contest 
in  which  she  should  paint  a  picture  and  the  artist  write 
a  story.  "I'll  wager  that  my  picture  will  be  better  than 
your  story,"  she  said.  One  criticism  day  as  Chase  was 
leaving  the  class,  quite  undeterred  by  the  fact  that  he 
had  failed  to  show  any  interest  in  her  challenge,  she  ran 
after  him  with  a  freshly  painted  canvas. 

"Now,  Mr.  Chase,  where's  your  story?  Here  is  my 
sketch." 

Chase,  thus  accosted,  gave  a  quick  glance  at  the  can- 
vas. "Ah,  I  see — I  have  won  the  bet !"  he  said. 

One  day  as  Chase  was  walking  along  Broad  Street  in 
Philadelphia  a  little  ragged  street  urchin  camped  in  the 
gutter  caught  sight  of  the  painter  as  he  passed.  The 
child  rose,  ran  up  to  him,  and  after  looking  earnestly  at 
him  a  moment,  inquired:  "Say,  mister,  ain't  you  some- 
body?"— a  tribute  to  his  outer  man  that  greatly  amused 
Chase. 

But  if  he  made  the  most  of  his  personal  appearance  in 
careful  consideration  of  hair  and  beard,  immaculate 
linen,  white  spats,  black-ribboned  glasses,  rings,  and  gar- 
ments of  the  latest  fashion,  it  was  primarily  one  felt  a 
part  of  his  concern  with  the  thing  of  the  eye  rather  than 
personal  vanity.  One  of  his  idiosyncrasies  in  dress  was 
his  custom  of  wearing  a  scarf-ring.  His  neckties  were 

[261] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

seldom  ornamented  with  a  pin,  but  were  preferably  drawn 
through  some  ring  chosen  from  his  interesting  collection. 
At  one  time  a  large  carved  emerald  set  with  small  dia- 
monds was  his  favorite;  at  another  a  carved  ivory  circlet 
was  most  in  evidence;  again  it  would  be  a  curious  carved 
silver  ring,  or  one  containing  a  turquoise  of  peculiarly 
intense  blue.  Of  course,  he  also  wore  the  rings.  In  the 
middle  eighties  his  Rubens  ring,  an  odd,  worn  old  ring 
of  silver  and  gold,  was  a  familiar  sight  to  his  friends  and 
associates  of  that  period.  In  later  years  he  seemed  to 
prefer  one  containing  a  vivid  turquoise  and  another 
with  a  seal  cut  in  a  reddish,  semitransparent  stone.  It 
was  characteristic  of  Chase's  type  that  he  was  able  to 
wear  his  jewelry  like  an  artist,  not  like  a  dandy. 

For  some  reason,  although  Chase's  features  were  so 
regular,  perhaps  because  of  his  marked  mannerisms, 
he  was  a  much-caricatured  man.  His  Philadelphia  pupils 
always  made  one  of  him  for  the  annual  Academy  ball. 
One  youth  was  famous  for  his  ability  to  make  a  carica- 
ture of  his  master  in  a  single  stroke.  Coming  upon  an- 
other talented  pupil  one  day  in  the  act  of  caricaturing 
him,  Chase,  after  a  quick  glance  at  it,  remarked:  "Ah, 
if  I  fail  in  the  Uffizi  commission  I  see  that  I  may  call 
upon  you !" 

The  hat  that  Chase  made  famous  aftd  that  Whistler 


CHASE,  THE  MAN 

subsequently  adopted  was  the  subject  of  many  jokes 
and  anecdotes.  There  is  a  tale  that  one  day  the  painter 
ordered  something  sent  home  from  a  shop  and  forgot 
to  notify  the  household  of  his  purchase.  The  maid  sent 
the  delivery  boy  away  without  making  inquiries,  but  the 
boy,  more  alert  than  the  servant,  made  a  discovery  that 
caused  him  to  refuse  to  carry  away  his  bundle.  His  eyes 
were  fastened  upon  the  hat-rack.  "Does  the  feller  that 
wears  that  hat  live  here?"  he  asked.  "It's  all  right, 
then.  He's  the  one,"  and  the  boy  firmly  set  his  package 
down  in  the  hall. 

A  rather  ineffectual  person  in  practical  matters,  Chase 
frequently  amused  his  friends  and  family  by  his  excessive 
appreciation  of  their  assistance  in  some  matter  that 
loomed  a  formidable  mountain  before  his  mind's  eye. 
William  Baer,  the  miniature-painter,  still  remembers 
how  Chase  marvelled  at  his  prowess  in  packing  some 
canvases  for  him  in  Holland.  "He  seemed  to  think  that 
I  was  a  most  extraordinarily  gifted  person  to  be  able  to 
do  it,"  said  Baer,  "and  thanked  me  repeatedly  as  if  he 
owed  me  the  debt  of  a  lifetime." 

One  of  Chase's  replies  to  a  customs  inspector  upon  his 
arrival  at  the  port  has  all  the  effect  of  intentional  wit  al- 
though it  was  really  only  a  simple  statement  of  the  fact 
of  his  helplessness.  Having  admitted  that  he  had  taken 

[  263] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

but  one  trunk  over  and  had  bought  nothing,  the  inspector 
caught  him  up  with:  "But  you  have  two  trunks  now." 
"Yes,"  Chase  explained,  "my  wife  packed  when  I  left 
home." 

Chase's  home  life  was  one  of  special  harmony.  Al- 
though an  extremely  nervous  man,  he  never  seemed  to  be 
disturbed  by  the  presence  of  his  children  even  in  his 
studio,  perhaps  because  they  understood  so  well  how  to 
keep  their  freedom  from  becoming  intrusion.  He  was 
proud  of  them  all,  from  the  oldest  son  to  the  youngest 
girl,  Mary  Content,  named  for  two  of  his  pupils,  and -al- 
ways took  them  to  walk,  all  eight,  every  Sunday  after- 
noon. One  daughter  was  the  object  of  particular  interest 
to  him  from  her  earliest  childhood.  Mrs.  Chase  tells  of 
overhearing  him  tete-a-tete  with  the  baby,  a  small  dark 
object  too  young  to  voice  articulate  wants,  inquiring 
with  helpless  but  elaborate  courtesy:  "Is  there  anything 
I  can  do  for  you?" 

Chase  was  a  father  more  indulgent  than  disciplinary. 
He  enjoyed  nothing  more  than  taking  a  cab  full  of  chil- 
dren to  Coney  Island  in  the  summer,  where  after  dining 
them  well  the  distinguished  artist  enjoyed  the  joys  of 
shooting  the  chutes  and  all  the  other  characteristic  di- 
versions of  Coney  Island. 

He  took  the  most  profound  interest 'in  the  children's 
school  entertainments.  The  Chase  children  all  attended 

[264] 


CHASE  AND  HIS  WIFE. 


THE  ARTIST'S  WIFE  AND  CHILDREN  AND  THE  FIRST  SON-IN-LAW. 


CHASE,  THE  MAN 

the  picturesque  old  Friends'  Seminary  opposite  their 
home  on  Stuyvesant  Square,  where  their  mother  went 
before  them.  At  the  yearly  performance  given  by  the 
school  children  the  majority  of  the  jokes  were  personal. 
There  were  many  in  which  the  size  and  special  charac- 
teristics of  the  Chase  family  were  touched  off,  all  of 
which  highly  entertained  the  painter,  who  never  by  any 
chance  missed  a  performance. 

Chase  was  particularly  fond  of  his  father-in-law, 
whose  unfailing  gayety  was  temperamentally  attractive 
to  him.  One  time  when  Chase  was  sailing  for  Europe  his 
father-in-law  sent  him  a  box  of  particularly  good  cigars 
inscribed  "To  William  M.  Chase,  who  knows  a  good 
thing  when  he  smokes  it,  with  a  bon  voyage  from  Julius 
Gerson." 

When  Chase  came  back,  however,  Mr.  Gerson  received 
a  package  which,  when  opened,  seemed  to  indicate 
that  his  present  had  been  returned  unused.  But  upon 
opening  the  box  he  discovered  not  cigars  but  a  delicious 
little  Italian  landscape  painted  on  the  under-side  of  the 
cover — for  cigar-box  wood,  as  all  painters  know,  makes 
an  excellent  painting  panel.  On  the  other  side  was  in- 
scribed: "To  Mr.  Julius  Gerson  who  knows  a  good  thing 
when  he  likes  it,  with  best  wishes  from  William  M. 
Chase,  Florence,  1907." 

Chase's  intentions  were  always  sympathetic  and  con- 

[  265  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

siderate,  but  like  many  other  men  he  frequently  lacked 
imagination  concerning  the  possible  discomforts  involved 
in  their  carrying  out.  Mrs.  Chase  gives  an  account  of 
one  of  his  attempts  to  pay  his  affectionate  respects  to 
his  mother,  who  was  visiting  a  daughter  in  a  Long  Is- 
land suburb. 

One  Sunday  afternoon,  immaculately  dressed,  Chase 
entered  the  room  with  the  remark  that  he  believed  he 
would  go  out  on  the  trolley  to  call  on  his  mother.  The 
open  cars  were  on,  it  would  be  a  very  pleasant  trip. 
Mrs.  Chase,  remembering  his  dislike  of  the  Sunday 
crowds,  the  whistling  and  pushing  and  odors  of  chewing- 
gum,  peanuts,  and  candy,  asked  him  if  he  did  not  think 
that  Sunday  was  rather  a  bad  day  for  the  journey, 
wouldn't  the  crowds  be  disagreeable  perhaps.  No,  he 
didn't  think  so.  "Of  course,  you  needn't  go  with  me," 
he  added.  "  No  indeed,  I  wouldn't  have  you  take  the  trip 
for  anything." 

A  few  minutes  later  he  entered  the  room  carrying  his 
hat  and  cane,  the  invariable  white  carnation  in  his  but- 
tonhole, and  asked  his  wife  if  she  were  ready.  She  was. 
So  they  started  forth  over  the  Fifty-ninth  Street  bridge 
to  swing  on  straps  while  the  car  jerked  and  crawled  its 
tortuous  way  to  Long  Island.  After  a  brief  endurance  of 
his  pet  aversions  the  exasperated  artist  turned  to  his 

[266] 


CHASE,  THE  MAN 

wife:  "Well,  you  can  go  on  if  you  want  to,  but  /  shall 
get  out  now  and  go  home.  This  car  is  impossible."  Mrs. 
Chase,  without  mentioning  the  fact  that  she  had  really 
not  been  the  originator  of  the  plan,  answered  mildly 
that  having  come  so  far  it  seemed  as  if  they  might  as 
well  go  on.  No,  he  would  not  go  on,  Chase  declared, 
it  was  useless  for  her  to  urge  him,  he  was  going  back  at 
once. 

He  did  go  on,  however,  and  by  the  end  of  the  day  had 
forgiven  his  wife  for  the  discomforts  of  the  trip.  He  did 
not  suggest  repeating  the  visit  the  following  Sunday, 
but  experience  never  seemed  to  teach  him  to  imagine  in 
advance  what  might  be  expected  to  occur. 

The  men  who  travelled  in  Europe  with  Chase  tell  of 
his  constant  remembrance  of  his  family  in  his  absences. 

"We  were  always  missing  him  and  once  almost  lost 
our  steamer  because  he  would  sit  down  to  write  to  his 
wife  at  any  and  all  spare  moments,"  remarked  William 
Thorne,  who  was  one  of  the  painter's  travelling  com- 
panions. 

Thorne,  who  was  a  poor  sailor,  also  remembers  how 
Chase,  who  seemed  to  him  quite  offensively  strong  and 
active  on  shipboard,  used  to  come  into  his  stateroom  to 
read  him  selections  from  the  daily  letters  with  which  his 
wife  and  children  had  provided  him,  one  for  each  day  of 

[267] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

the  trip.  So  moved  was  the  seasick  painter  in  his  weak- 
ened condition  by  this  beautiful  spectacle  of  domestic 
devotion  that  he  remembers  shedding  tears  over  the 
affectionate  extracts  that  Chase  read  to  him. 

Another  provision  for  the  voyage  made  by  Chase's 
wife  was  the  indispensable  white  carnation  which  he  al- 
ways wore  in  his  buttonhole.  Mrs.  Chase  always  left  in 
the  steward's  care  a  sufficient  number  of  these  to  last 
for  the  trip.  Chase  was  very  proud  of  this  attention  and 
Mr.  William  Guard,  who  made  his  last  return  trip  on 
the  same  steamer,  says  that  he  was  so  much  touched  at 
the  painter's  sentiment  about  the  white  carnations  that 
he  never  remarked  upon  the  fact  that  they  were  sailing 
toward  and  not  from  the  devoted  wife,  even  when  he 
caught  Chase  one  day  helping  himself  to  the  necessary 
white  carnation  from  the  table  decorations. 

Outside  of  his  family  association  Chase  had  few  human 
relationships.  Although  he  did  not  have  intimate  friends 
among  his  confreres  either  in  Europe  or  America,  he 
was  on  terms  of  cordial  friendship  with  the  majority  of 
contemporary  painters.  He  had  affectionate  memories  of 
his  master  Piloty  and  his  idol  Leibl.  He  knew  Couture, 
Von  Lenbach,  Fritz  von  Uhde,  Von  Habermann,  Bol- 
dini,  Manet,  Alfred  Stevens,  Whistler,  Sorolla,  La  Touche, 
Carolus  Duran,  Alma-Tadema,  Lavery,  Shannon,  Frank 

[268] 


CHASE,  THE  MAN 

Brangwyn,  and  Mesdag,  and  a  number  of  other  European 
painters  with  the  touch-and-go  association  of  artists, 
nothing  more. 

The  friends  of  his  earlier  days,  Duveneck,  Shirlaw, 
Beckwith,  Church,  Dielman,  Currier,  Twachtman,  and 
Blum,  were  on  somewhat  more  intimate  terms  with  him. 
He  was  also  very  fond  of  his  one-time  pupil,  Irving  Wiles, 
whose  work  he  greatly  admired.  Of  his  old  friends  Robert 
Blum  was  perhaps  the  one  of  whom  Chase  saw  most. 
When  Blum  came  to  New  York  a  talented  young  man 
having  had  little  or  no  art  instruction,  Chase  was  al- 
ready a  celebrity  in  the  artistic  world.  His  friendship  as 
well  as  his  criticism  was  of  value  to  Blum,  and  Blum's 
letters  show  how  deeply  he  valued  both. 

Chase's  artistic  dandyism,  with  which  all  his  friends 
and  associates  were  familiar,  was  neatly  touched  off 
once  by  Blum  at  a  rather  dull  and  long  committee  meet- 
ing from  which  Chase  had  escaped. 

"What's  become  of  Chase?"  inquired  a  fellow  vic- 
tim, suddenly  discovering  the  painter's  absence.  Blum 
looked  up. 

"Chase?"  he  drawled.  "Oh,  why,  I  believe  Chase  has 
gone  out  to  change  his  scarf-pin." 

Mrs.  Chase  tells  of  an  occasion  when  her  husband 
wished  to  give  Blum  a  present  on  his  birthday.  Instead 

[269  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

of  buying  something  new,  Chase  hunted  about  among 
his  treasures  for  some  unique  gift  that  would  please  his 
friend's  fastidious  taste.  Finally  he  appeared,  looking 
very  much  pleased  with  an  interesting  old  scarf-pin. 
"This  looks  like  Blum,"  he  declared.  "Don't  you  think 
he  would  like  it  ? " 

Mrs.  Chase  glanced  at  the  pin.  "Yes,  it  does  look  like 
him,"  she  agreed.  "I  am  sure  he  would  like  it.  The  only 
objection  to  giving  it  to  him  is  that  he  gave  it  to  you  last 
year." 

When  I  asked  Charles  Dana  Gibson  about  his  asso- 
ciation with  Chase,  he  remarked  without  hesitation: 
"Why,  we  usually  met  at  prize-fights." 

Chase,  it  seems,  was  a  great  enthusiast  on  the  subject 
of  the  modern  gladiator,  and  well  versed  in  all  the  points 
of  such  contests.  There  is  a  pleasing  incongruity  in  this 
picture  of  the  famous  illustrator  and  the  distinguished 
painter  ardently  discussing  the  technic  of  prize-fights  on 
the  edge  of  the  ring  as  if  art  did  not  exist. 

Chase  also  enjoyed  the  prowess  of  Buffalo  Bill  and 
his  cowboys.  Each  year  he  took  his  wife  and  children 
to  see  them  and  each  year  he  went  to  call  upon  William 
Cody  in  his  dressing-room  and  ardently  insisted  that  he 
must  paint  him — a  plan  that  was  never  carried  out. 
Another  celebrity  of  this  type,  Zack  MiHer,  Chase  met 

[270] 


CHASE,   THE  MAN 

once  on  the  steamer.  We  can  imagine  the  polite  adapta- 
tions of  their  conversation,  the  respectful  questions  of 
Chase,  his  astonished  comments,  the  characteristic  jargon 
of  the  cowboy.  In  parting,  Zack  Miller  exacted  Chase's 
promise  to  come  to  his  "show"  and  sent  him  a  box. 
Chase  went,  of  course,  accompanied  by  all  his  family 
and  was  made  conspicuous  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  when 
Zack  on  a  white  charger  rode  up  to  his  box  and  saluted 
him — a  public  honor  greatly  enjoyed  by  the  younger 
children.  Another  yearly  festivity  attended  by  the  en- 
tire family  was  Barnuin's  Circus,  which  entertained  Chase 
quite  as  much  as  it  did  the  children. 

He  did  not  even  spurn  moving  pictures.  There  he  also 
seemed  to  enjoy  the  emotion  of  astonishment.  Once  he 
was  asked  to  pose  for  a  screen  representation  of  an  art- 
ist's hands  in  his  Fourth  Avenue  Studio.  The  camera 
man  requested  that  Chase  show  himself  in  the  act  of 
painting.  Chase,  with  his  dramatic  instinct,  seized  the 
idea  at  once.  His  daughter  Helen  gives  an  amusing  de- 
scription of  how  he  painted  on  a  portrait  of  his  wife  in 
the  most  convincing  manner  with  no  paint  on  his  brush, 
stepped  back  to  view  his  supposed  work,  and  turned  to 
chat  with  an  imaginary  critic.  In  fact  Chase's  mind  had 
rapidly  visualized  an  appropriate  scene  in  which  the 
children  were  to  run  in  and  embrace  their  mother  who 

[271] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

was  posing;  but  unfortunately  the  photographer,  who 
was  instructed  to  be  interested  only  in  the  hands  of  the 
painter,  explained  that  his  limited  range  would  not  per- 
mit him  to  take  advantage  of  this  facile  dramatization. 

At  Shinnecock  Chase  went  fishing  regularly  with  his 
children  on  the  breakwater,  and  always,  the  boys  loyally 
insisted,  returned  with  some  fish.  He  used  to  play  base- 
ball with  them  on  the  sand,  and  the  family,  including 
the  artist,  quite  made  up  the  requisite  nine — for  there 
are  eight  Chase  children:  Alice  Dieudonnee,  now  Mrs. 
Arthur  Sullivan,  Koto  Robertine  (named  for  a  Japanese 
friend),  now  Mrs.  Kenneth  Carr;  Dorothy  Bremond, 
Hazel  Neamaug,  Helen  Velasquez,  Robert  Stewart,  Ro- 
land Dana  and  Mary  Content,  named  in  order  of  their 
appearance. 

When  Chase  came  home  from  Europe  the  presenta- 
tion of  his  gifts  was  as  much  of  an  event  as  Christmas. 
The  children  would  wait  in  the  living-room,  looking  over 
the  foreign  periodicals  he  had  brought  back,  while  their 
father  and  mother  unpacked  the  gifts.  The  boys  usually 
got  mechanical  toys  suited  to  their  age  and  sex,  the  girls 
something  interesting  to  wear. 

When  he  found  that  his  oldest  son  instead  of  turning 
toward  art  was  interested  in  electricity  and  mechanics, 
Chase  was  deeply  bewildered.  Instead  oi  protesting,  how- 

[272] 


CHASE  S  PORT  RAIT  OF  HIS  YOUNGEST  SON.  ROLAND  DANA  CHASE 
Painted  the  year  before  the  artist's  death. 


CHASE,   THE  MAN 

ever,  he  contented  himself  with  such  dark  allusions  as 
that  he  "was  glad  that  Bobbie  was  at  the  top  of  the 
house  where  he  could  only  blow  the  roof  off  with  his 
experiments."  But  in  time  he  came  to  have  quite  a 
deferential  attitude  toward  his  scientific  son  and  would 
inquire  quite  formally  and  respectfully  when  he  read  or 
heard  of  some  mysterious  scientific  phenomenon:  "What 
explanation  can  you  offer  of  this?" 

Of  course  it  was  the  natural  destiny  of  all  the  chil- 
dren, especially  the  girls,  to  pose  for  their  father.  The 
oldest  daughter,  Alice,  familiarly  known  as  Cosy,  has 
probably  posed  more  often  than  any  painter's  child 
in  America,  and  Dorothy,  the  third  daughter,  is  a  close 
second.  Helen,  the  original  of  the  Infanta  portrait,  says 
that  one  of  her  earliest  recollections  is  of  posing  in  a 
difficult  position  and  being  repaid  with  caramels,  which 
she  was  allowed  to  eat  during  her  rests. 

Often  the  children  were  unconscious  subjects  as  they 
played  about  the  moors  at  Shinnecock.  Helen  remembers 
her  surprise  as  a  small  child  when  after  having  watched 
her  father's  canvas  she  ran  off,  to  return  almost  in- 
stantly, and  discovered  that  in  that  brief  moment  her 
pink  hair-ribbon  had  been  immortalized  upon  the  canvas. 

At  another  time,  at  one  of  the  numerous  birthday 
celebrations  in  the  family,  when  Helen  had  put  on  one 

[273] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

of  the  little  colored-paper  caps  that  come  in  French 
motto  bonbons  she  remembers  how  her  father,  after 
staring  intently  at  her  an  instant,  commanded  her  to 
go  down  to  the  studio,  and  play  was  abandoned  for 
posing. 

There  seems  to  have  been  no  indolence  in  Chase's 
nature.  His  days  were  as  full  as  an  average  man's  week. 
It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  him  to  have  a  sitter  in  the 
morning  in  addition  to  giving  conscientious  criticism 
to  his  large  class,  afterward  attending  a  luncheon  at 
which  he  made  an  address;  then  to  take  an  afternoon 
train  to  Philadelphia  or  Washington  for  some  important 
meeting,  returning  on  a  midnight  train.  All  of  his  life 
until  his  failing  health  forbade,  Chase  was  tireless  in 
the  cause  of  art.  If  one  asked  of  him  in  that  name  he 
gave  to  the  full  measure  of  his  strength. 


o 


[274] 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

IN  passing  through  a  gallery  it  is  often  unnecessary  to 
look  for  the  signature  on  a  canvas  in  order  to  recog- 
nize the  painter.  This  may  be  a  question  of  personality 
or  of  manner.  The  big  man  has  artistic  personality,  the 
lesser  one  a  manner.  The  clever  painter  has  mannerisms, 
the  master  has  touch. 

The  brush  of  William  M.  Chase  had  touch.  More  than 
that,  it  held  the  elusive  secret  of  style,  and  style  is  a 
quality  of  the  master.  The  most  talented  student's  work 
can  only  promise,  not  possess  it.  The  canvases  of  many  a 
strong  painter  lack  it.  It  cannot  be  acquired,  it  is  the  most 
aristocratic  and  intangible  of  all  the  qualities  that  go 
to  make  a  good  picture.  It  seems  a  gift  as  subtle  and  in- 
nate as  magnetism.  Yet  at  this  present  period — or 
rather  phase — of  painting  when  brilliant  but  too  often 
unsound  technic  on  the  one  hand  and  the  hysterical  un- 
inspired search  for  eccentricity  on  the  other  have  been 
most  in  evidence,  it  would  seem  as  if  this  precious  heri- 
tage of  the  old  masters  were  the  rarest  thing  in  modern 
art. 

The  influences  that  worked  upon  Chase  and  went  to 
form  his  individual  style  are  interesting  not  only  because 

[2751 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

of  the  part  they  played  in  his  own  artistic  destiny,  but 
because  they  are  concerned  with  the  great  transition 
period  of  modern  art.  Although  a  pioneer  of  art  in  this 
country  Chase  does  not  seem  to  have  been  of  the  spon- 
taneously creative  type.  He  had  not  only  a  very  definite 
art  personality  of  his  own  but  the  bigger  thing,  individ- 
uality. Yet  it  was  a  thing  variously  derived  and  sug- 
gested, not,  as  occasionally  happens  in  the  arts,  an  innate 
expression.  His  art  was  individual,  but  his  inspiration 
was  derivative.  The  thing  he  ultimately  produced  was 
a  combination  of  the  things  he  had  absorbed,  a  new 
thing  and  his  own.  To  the  depths  of  his  soul  Chase  felt 
a  reverence  for  the  great  art  of  the  past,  a  much  needed 
lesson  to  the  immature,  self-assured  young  students  of 
to-day  who  confide  to  each  other  over  their  long  pipes 
that  "Velasquez  couldn't  paint  and  Holbein  couldn't 
draw." 

When  the  talented  young  American  boy  was  a  stu- 
dent in  Munich — Piloty's  pupil  but  Leibl's  disciple — 
he  painted  brilliant  old  masters.  It  was  Alfred  Stevens, 
the  Belgian  painter  whom  he  so  profoundly  admired, 
who  said  to  Chase  after  seeing  some  of  his  pictures  at 
the  Salon:  "Why  do  you  try  to  make  your  canvases 
look  as  if  they  had  been  painted  by  the  old  masters?" 
From  that  time  on  Chase  sought  to  Express  himself. 

[276] 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

In  analyzing  those  qualities  which  constitute  the  in- 
dividuality of  Chase's  art  and  which  have  become  its 
influence,  one  would  select  as  most  obvious  his  painting 
of  the  figure  in  the  interior  and  in  the  open,  his  revivifica- 
tion and  development  of  the  art  of  still  life  and  the  em- 
phasis he  laid  upon  it  as  painting  material,  and  a  certain 
distinctive  treatment  evolved  from  the  study  of  Japanese 
art. 

In  the  more  direct  influence  of  his  teaching  he  laid 
emphasis  upon  two  fundamental  and  all-important  points. 
His  reiteration  of  the  fact  that  a  painter's  first  considera- 
tion must  be  the  purely  technical  side  of  painting,  and 
his  insistence  upon  what  is  in  truth  the  Greek  spirit  in 
art — the  joy  of  the  creative  impulse,  that  essence  which 
should  inform  the  slightest  sketch  as  well  as  the  finished 
picture.  "You  must  enjoy  what  you  are  doing  if  others 
are  to  enjoy  it  with  you,"  he  often  used  to  say  to  his 
pupils. 

Chase's  use  of  the  figure  in  the  landscape  was  a  new 
and  characteristic  thing.  No  one  has  better  appreciated 
the  value  of  the  small  decisive  human  note  in  relation 
to  the  large  spaces  of  earth  and  sky,  the  significant 
accent  of  that  small  color  note — a  little  pink  hat,  a  red 
bow,  a  child's  colored  stockings,  a  woman's  parasol — in 
relation  to  the  wide  sweep  of  the  Shinnecock  moors,  the 

[277] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

fine  subtle  touch  of  the  little  figure  in  that  quiet  plane 
of  grass  of  many  colors  yet  one  value — these  qualities 
belong  to  Chase.  They  are  recognizable  the  minute  the 
eye  falls  upon  the  canvas  in  a  gallery.  The  figures  are 
often  children,  sometimes  a  woman  or  an  old  man- 
whatever  it  may  be,  it  is  always  part  of  the  landscape. 

In  his  interiors  there  is  the  same  appreciation  of  the 
relation  of  the  figure  to  its  surroundings.  In  painting 
the  atmosphere  of  a  dark  interior,  the  sense  of  light  in 
the  dark,  Chase  has  been  extraordinarily  successful  and 
has  had  many  imitators  among  his  pupils.  Undeniably 
from  the  old  Dutch  masters  he  learned  much  about  the 
painting  of  interior  light,  yet  he  cannot  be  said  to  have 
imitated  them.  He  accepted  their  lesson  and  gave  out 
his  knowledge  in  his  own  manner. 

Chase's  early  interior  subjects  must  not  be  taken  as 
examples  of  his  interior  painting.  Neither  the  picture 
of  his  Tenth  Street  Studio  in  the  Brooklyn  Museum 
which  was  painted  in  the  early  eighties,  nor  the  one  now 
the  property  of  the  Carnegie  Institute,  which  is  an  early 
sketch  quite  recently  filled  in,  make  any  attempt  at  paint- 
ing interior  light.  They  are  decorative  sketches  with  an 
excellent  handling  of  patches  of  strong  color,  but  they 
are  innocent  of  any  attempt  to  suggest  atmosphere. 
Such  pictures  as  Hide  and  Seek,  painted  in  1888,  and 

[278] 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

Ring  Toss,  of  a  somewhat  later  date,  are  fine  examples 
of  Chase's  painting  of  interior  light.  His  mastery  of  that 
trick  seems  to  date  from  his  visits  to  Holland  in  1884  and 
1885,  when  he  became  particularly  interested  in  the  art 
of  the  Dutch  painters  and  perhaps  studied  De  Hooghe 
and  Vermeer  more  carefully  than  he  had  before. 

Chase's  interest  in  still  life  was  awakened  by  his  study 
of  the  French  masters  Chardin  and  Vollon,  but  he  evolved 
a  still-life  technic  of  his  own  and  revealed  the  result  to 
America  at  a  time  when  still  life  was  known  only  as  a 
dull  step  in  the  student's  course.  In  doing  this  he  did 
more  than  present  new  subject-matter  to  American 
students  and  painters,  he  declared  a  creed  of  art,  for 
William  Chase,  like  Whistler,  discovered  and  proved 
that  beauty  is  indeed  in  the  eye  of  the  beholder  and  lies 
therefore  in  all  objects  alike,  whether  the  special  subject 
is  a  fish,  a  piece  of  fabric,  or  a  woman's  face.  "While 
there  is  still  life  there  is  hope,"  Chase  used  to  say  in 
diagnosing  the  health  of  American  art.  And  another 
time,  with  his  quaint  kindly  humor:  "If  you  can  paint 
a  pot  you  can  paint  an  angel." 

The  lesson  he  drew  from  Japanese  art  became  part 
and  parcel  of  his  own.  Its  direct  influence  is  obvious  in 
his  decorative  use  of  the  kimono-clad  figure,  the  Japanese 
arrangement,  the  introduction  of  Japanese  objects  into 

[  279  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

his  composition;  the  indirect  influence  is  found  in  his 
sense  of  elimination  and  color  composition,  and  most 
of  all,  in  his  absorption  of  that  indescribable  thing  that 
is  the  essence  of  a  people's  art.  In  this  day  when  Japanese 
prints  of  a  sort  are  a  commonplace  to  the  shop-girl,  it 
is  difficult  for  us  to  realize  that  they  stood  as  a  veri- 
table entrance  to  a  new  world  to  the  painters  of  the 
seventies  and  eighties,  for  now  we  are  all  familiar  with 
their  influence  upon  modern  art. 

The  Spanish  suggestion  in  Chase's  work  is  less  definite. 
In  the  painting  of  face,  hair,  or  figure,  in  the  treatment 
of  the  actual  Spanish  subject,  in  the  masterly  handling 
of  blacks  and  whites,  one  glimpses  the  Velasquez  lesson ; 
but  the  trail  that  contact  with  the  art  of  Spain  left  upon 
the  painter's  imagination  is  something  less  specific  than 
the  influence  of  any  one  painter,  however  great.  It  is 
an  essence  like  the  rhythm  of  a  Spanish  dance.  One  can 
trace  it  in  the  pose  of  a  figure  not  Spanish,  as  in  the  por- 
trait called  Dorothy,  or  just  in  some  indefinable  manner  or 
detail  of  treatment. 

Doubtless  his  discovery  of  the  French  plein  air  school 
in  the  early  eighties  helped  to  emancipate  Chase  from 
the  painting  of  outdoors  in  the  dark  tones  of  the  Munich 
School.  Some  suggestion  from  the  French  painters  may 
have  assisted  his  seeing  of  his  Central  Park  subjects, 

[280] 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

but  the  Shinnecock  landscapes  are  pure  Chase,  for  as 
has  been  said,  the  thing  that  developed  out  of  these  in- 
fluences and  associations,  this  opening  out  of  new  vistas, 
was  so  essentially  his  own  that  one  always  identifies  as 
such  not  only  a  real  Chase,  but  anything  in  the  manner 
or  imitation  of  one.  More  than  one  pupil  never  got  be- 
yond the  stage  of  making  little  Chases. 

Chase's  work,  however,  does  not  divide  itself  into 
sharp  periods.  After  his  emancipation  from  the  Munich 
manner  there  was  that  time  early  in  his  career  when  the 
specific  charm  of  the  Spanish  manner  and  subject — the 
Fortuny  influence  intermingled  with  the  Velasquez — 
caused  him  to  paint  a  number  of  Spanish  pictures  of  the 
type  of  A  Spanish  Lady,  shown  in  the  Memorial  Ex- 
hibition in  the  Metropolitan  Museum  February,  1917, 
in  which  white,  yellow,  pink,  and  black  are  combined  in 
a  manner  peculiarly  Spanish.  In  the  early  eighties  and 
late  nineties  the  park  subjects  just  referred  to  absorbed 
him;  but  his  Shinnecock  landscapes  and  interiors,  his 
Japanese  kimono-clad  subjects,  his  still-life  studies,  all 
these  seemed  to  be  expressions  of  a  painting  mood  rather 
than  a  phase  in  his  development  since  he  painted  them 
at  intervals  during  a  period  of  thirty  years. 

His  first  Japanesque  portrait,  that  of  Mrs.  Chase  hold- 
ing their  first  baby,  called  Mother  and  Child,  was  painted 

[281  1 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

in  1886.  The  Red  Box,  one  of  his  best,  was  painted  about 
1901.  He  did  another  called  The  Flame  the  year  before 
his  death. 

Nothing  in  Chase's  painting  was  more  individual  than 
his  use  of  color,  nothing  more  distinguished  than  his 
painting  of  blacks  and  whites.  If  not  a  colorist  in  the 
usual  sense  of  the  term,  he  had  a  keen  and  subtle  sense  of 
the  value  of  the  color  note  that  was  one  of  the  hall-marks 
of  a  Chase  canvas. 

He  never  attempted  to  manipulate  a  "riot  of  color." 
Indeed  his  use  of  large  patches  of  color  found  in  some  of 
his  earlier  canvases  is  seldom  entirely  successful.  His 
taste  was  rather  for  the  reserves  of  color,  the  finer  tones 
and  juxtapositions,  comparative  blacks  and  contrasted 
whites,  with  the  significant  accenting  touch  of  light  or 
dark.  But  most  effective  of  all  is  his  subtle,  economical 
manner  of  using  a  small  quantity  of  color  in  such  a  way 
that  it  tells  for  ten  times  its  quantity  and  speaks  more 
authoritatively  than  an  overwhelming  brilliance.  The 
Red  Box  is  an  example  of  this.  The  most  trumpet-like 
proclamation  of  scarlet  could  not  penetrate  more  keenly, 
seize  more  compellingly  upon  the  imagination  than  do 
the  elusive  quirls  and  splashes  leading  up  to  the  final 
"let  go"  on  the  wide  patch  of  the  pinkish -red  sleeve 
and  the  coral  glow  of  the  red  box.  The  canvas  called 


THE  RED  BOX. 

Owned  by  Mr.  Philip  Sharpless,  of  Philadelphia. 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

Mother  and  Child  shows  a  slender  reposeful  standing 
figure  in  a  black  kimono,  holding  against  one  shoulder 
the  soft  form  of  the  baby.  The  harmony  is  quiet  and 
simple — blacks,  low-toned  whites,  a  touch  of  red,  a  note 
of  smoky  violet  in  the  roll  of  the  kimono  at  the  feet, 
grayish  figures  on  the  black  robe  connecting  the  light 
tone  of  the  baby's  robe  with  the  black  ones,  the  intense 
note  of  the  red  in  the  neck-band  of  the  kimono  repeated 
more  lightly  in  the  handle  of  the  baby's  rattle  and  in  the 
pattern  on  the  violet  border.  The  Open  Japanese  Book  is 
a  portrait  of  his  daughter  Alice  in  a  black  kimono  against 
a  neutral  tone.  The  strong  accent  of  red  in  the  sash  re- 
peats through  the  book  of  prints  and  the  figures  in  the 
robe.  The  girl's  smile  and  the  expression  of  the  hand  are 
happily  caught.  Another  interesting  portrait  of  this 
class  is  the  one  called  The  Gray  Kimono,  in  which  the 
finely  felt  color  note  lies  in  the  blue  touches  in  the  gown 
and  book. 

Although  Chase's  manner  of  working  was  in  direct 
opposition  to  that  of  the  artist  who  experiments  in 
glazes  and  other  indirect  means  of  obtaining  effects, 
he  objected  most  of  all  to  fixed  ideas,  rules,  or  habits. 
He  kept  his  mind  open  and  experimented  in  uncon- 
ventional ways  with  his  palette.  He  frequently  used 
siccatif  and  undiluted  varnish  as  a  medium,  which,  in 

[283] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

the  case  of  his  fish  pictures,  played  a  very  definite  part 
in  his  method.  As  fish,  of  course,  will  not  keep,  Chase's 
directness  and  quickness  in  working  was  never  of  greater 
advantage  than  when  he  was  painting  them.  His  method 
of  working  on  a  fish  still-life  was  to  lay  in  his  whole 
picture  in  the  morning,  using  varnish  as  a  medium.  By 
the  time  he  returned  from  lunch  the  surface  was  agree- 
ably "tacky,"  which  is  to  say,  in  just  the  right  condi- 
tion for  that  interesting  manipulation  that  he  used  to 
call  playing  with  the  paint.  When  he  laid  down  his 
brushes  that  afternoon  the  picture  was  finished. 

Once  a  landscape  painted  as  a  joke  by  his  wife  with 
enamel  house  paint  suggested  to  Chase  that  that  pig- 
ment was  worthy  of  serious  consideration  as  a  means 
of  effect,  and  the  next  time  he  painted  a  fish  picture  he 
added  white  enamel  house  paint  to  his  palette.  The  in- 
gredients of  the  paint  were  perfectly  good;  he  knew  that 
there  was  no  reason  why  it  should  not  last. 

On  his  trips  to  Pittsburgh  for  jury  duty  Chase  used 
to  pass  a  certain  fence  painted  red,  an  offense  to  the 
landscape,  but  in  itself  a  strong,  beautiful  color.  As  he 
noted  in  passing  it  twice  a  year  that  the  color  did  not 
fade,  even  outdoors  in  the  sunlight,  it  was  evident  that 
the  pigment  had  great  permanency,  so  the  next  time 
Chase  went  to  Pittsburgh  he  hunted  tip  the  source  of 

[284] 


MOTHKR  AND  CHILD. 

Chase's  portrait  of  his  wife  and  their  first  baby. 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

the  paint.  Having  finally  trailed  it  to  the  manufacturer, 
he  bought  all  the  red  paint  the  man  had  on  hand  and 
had  an  artist's  color  firm  put  it  up  in  tubes.  With  char- 
acteristic generosity  he  scattered  it  among  his  painter 
friends.  With  this  red  many  of  his  red  notes  were  touched 
in — those  characteristic  accents  which  caused  Kenyon 
Cox  to  say  that  in  his  use  of  a  red  note  Chase  had 
signed  his  canvas. 

While  Chase  was  in  England  not  long  before  Abbey's 
death,  Abbey  sent  him  an  urgent  request  to  come  and 
see  his  Harrisburg  decorations.  At  first  Chase  thought  it 
impossible,  but  at  the  last  minute  he  took  a  flying  trip  to 
Abbey's  country  house  by  motor.  When  he  saw  the 
decorations  his  diagnosis  sounded  proverbial,  but  it  was 
as  Abbey  realized  afterward  quite  right.  "What  your 
canvas  needs  is  a  spot  of  red."  Abbey  took  his  advice. 

Always  generous  in  passing  on  anything  that  he  dis- 
covered, evolved,  or  spontaneously  knew,  Chase  was 
almost  non-understandable  to  the  kind  of  painters  who 
guard  their  little  trade  secrets  with  jealous  care;  espe- 
cially did  the  continental  painters,  who  as  a  rule  con- 
sider such  generosity  sheer  madness,  marvel  at  his  lack 
of  self -protection. 

Chase  always  told  freely  in  so  far  as  the  thing  was  ex- 
plainable just  how  he  had  obtained  his  results.  In 

[  285  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

painting  the  Whistler  portrait  he  said  that  he  started 
by  laying  in  the  whole  atmospheric  envelope,  then  lit- 
erally drawing  out  the  significant  masses  and  spots  with 
a  paint-rag,  gradually  refined  the  masses  and  drawing  as 
he  painted. 

Chase  always  drew  with  the  brush.  It  was  the  way 
natural  to  him  and  the  method  he  believed  in  as  the 
best  means  to  the  end.  He  encouraged  his  students  to 
paint  almost  as  soon  as  they  drew.  With  his  own  chil- 
dren he  gave  them  color  at  once. 

Chase  used  to  lay  great  stress  (perhaps  too  great 
stress  for  the  understanding  of  the  student)  upon  what 
he  called  the  "happy  accident,"  although  one  interested 
in  the  psychic  would  explain  such  happenings  by  the 
workings  of  the  artist's  subjective  mind.  Along  some- 
what the  same  line  of  belief  was  his  advice  to  students 
to  use  all  sorts  of  brushes.  House-paint  brushes  he  con- 
sidered excellent  for  many  purposes,  also  ragged  brushes, 
moth  or  mouse  eaten  brushes  had,  he  maintained,  great 
possibilities  for  certain  effects. 

There  are  painters  who  think  that  Chase  did  not  help 
the  student  by  this  insistence  upon  what  might  be  called 
the  temperamental  rather  than  the  studious  side  of  art 
training.  But  such  an  estimate  is  superficial.  There  is  no 
royal  road  to  art.  Any  student  who  Ras  achieved  any- 

[  286  J 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

thing  in  this  world,  whatever  schools  may  have  done  for 
him,  has  worked  out  his  own  salvation.  Chase  was  con- 
cerned with  the  student's  attitude.  In  laying  emphasis  as 
he  did  upon  the  light-hearted  side  of  art,  the  spirit  of 
play  in  work,  he  was  no  doubt  urged  by  his  belief  that 
the  academic  attitude  he  had  to  combat  in  his  own 
career  was  as  false  in  feeling  as  it  was  in  result.  He  was 
just  as  much  opposed  to  the  striving  for  effect  without 
knowledge  as  the  most  didactic  academician. 

Chase's  unerring  perception  as  to  what  a  canvas 
needed  to  achieve  harmony  or  effect  caused  him  to  do 
or  advise  at  any  moment  the  exactly  right  thing.  Notic- 
ing in  one  of  his  own  canvases  after  it  was  placed  upon 
an  exhibition  wall  that  the  face  and  hands  seemed  to 
lack  color,  he  brushed  over  them  with  a  little  red  in  his 
varnish  as  it  hung  on  the  wall.  It  looked  to  the  younger 
painter  watching  him  much  too  pink  at  the  moment — 
he  was,  to  tell  the  truth,  filled  with  consternation  at 
Chase's  rashness — but  when  he  saw  the  canvas  again  a 
day  or  two  later  after  the  exhibition  had  opened,  he 
realized  that  when  the  surface  was  no  longer  wet  the 
effect  was  exactly  right. 

Another  time  Chase  offered  artistic  first  aid  on  hang- 
ing day  to  a  confrere,  a  painter  of  less  spontaneous  gifts 
than  his  own,  who  was  very  melancholy  over  his  realiza- 

[287] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

tion  that  his  canvas  did  not  "hold  together"  when  he 
saw  it  on  the  exhibition  wall.  Chase  cast  a  quick  eye 
over  it.  It  was  a  decorative  picture  with  patches  of  blue 
in  its  scheme  which  were  distinctly  "out."  The  picture 
had  been  worked  over  until  its  freshness  was  gone  and 
the  original  idea  lost.  Chase  instantly  advised  the  painter 
to  go  over  the  whole  with  blue  in  his  varnish.  The  other 
artist  accepted  the  suggestion,  and  when  his  entire  can- 
vas had  had  a  wash  of  blue,  the  whole  was  not  only 
drawn  together,  but  had  regained  the  appearance  of 
freshness  it  had  lost. 

As  a  portrait-painter  pure  and  simple,  Chase's  work 
was  uneven.  Not  infrequently  he  failed  in  the  matter  of 
likeness  which,  while  having  no  bearing  upon  the  art 
value  of  a  canvas,  is  undoubtedly  a  necessary  considera- 
tion in  the  valuation  of  a  portrait  as  such.  Chase  has, 
however,  painted  some  masterly  portraits,  strong  in 
characterization  as  well  as  in  technic.  In  these  he  seems 
for  some  reason  to  have  been  more  successful  with  men, 
despite  such  brilliant  exceptions  as  the  Woman  with  the 
White  Shawl. 

Among  his  finest  portraits  of  men  are  those  of  Emil 
Paur,  Louis  Windmuller,  Watson  Webb,  Spencer  Kel- 
logg, A.  B.  Gwathmey,  Edward  Steichen,  William  Howe, 
Robert  Underwood  Johnson,  and  Dean  Grosvenor.  And, 
last  and  most  brilliant  of  all,  his  portrait  of  Whistler. 

[288] 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

In  this  memorable  canvas  the  figure  stands  a  dark  sil- 
houette against  an  atmospheric  golden-brown  tone. 
Quiet,  elusive,  insidious  in  treatment,  it  conveys  the  very 
essence  of  the  man — fantastic,  diabolic,  egotistic,  ma- 
licious, yet  holding  unmistakably  the  light  intangible 
quality  of  genius.  It  is  even  touched  with  the  very  art 
personality  of  the  subject — an  added  subtlety  on  the 
part  of  the  painter,  for  though  the  manner  recalls  Whis- 
tler, the  canvas  as  it  stands  is  unmistakably  a  Chase, 
not  a  Whistler. 

Chase,  as  may  be  readily  imagined,  had  no  desire  to 
paint  the  pretty  feminine  subjects,  yet  he  was  not  en- 
tirely proof  against  the  effect  of  the  outer  man  or  woman, 
and  there  were  types  before  which  his  muse  fled  in  re- 
volt when  he  flatly  refused  a  portrait  order. 

Some  one  in  conversation  with  him  once  mentioned  a 
well-known  man  of  his  acquaintance,  to  which  Chase's 
only  reply  was,  "Is  his  wife  still  living?"  which  his  com- 
panion thought  a  rather  singular  answer.  The  explana- 
tion proved  to  be  that  the  man  had  once  asked  Chase 
to  paint  his  wife's  portrait,  but  Chase  after  meeting  the 
lady  felt  that  he  could  not  possibly  do  it.  Not  knowing 
how  to  refuse  flatly,  he  had  simply  evaded  making  any 
definite  date  and  had  been  avoiding  the  excellent  gentle- 
man ever  since. 

On  one  occasion  Chase  was  commissioned  to  paint  the 

[  289] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

portrait  of  a  woman  unsophisticated  in  art  but  with  very 
definite  personal  tastes.  When  she  went  for  her  first  sit- 
ting Chase,  who  had  understood  that  he  was  to  paint  a 
half-length,  found  that  she  wanted  a  full-length  por- 
trait. Looking  about  he  discovered  that  he  had  no  can- 
vas large  enough  in  his  studio.  There  may  have  been 
several  in  the  storeroom  across  the  hall — for  Chase  must 
have  suffered  from  fear-thought  where  painting  supplies 
were  concerned  judging  from  the  amount  of  material  he 
had  accumulated — but  in  any  case  he  did  not  find  what 
he  wanted  in  the  studio.  He  did  however,  come  upon  a 
very  large,  almost  square  canvas  upon  which  a  pupil 
who  sometimes  painted  in  his  studio  had  started  a  group 
portrait  of  a  mother  and  two  children.  Turning  it  upside 
down  so  that  the  picture  already  laid  in  should  not 
prove  confusing,  thinking,  if  he  thought  at  all,  that 
necessity  knows  no  law,  he  began  his  portrait. 

But  after  his  sitter  had  left  he  was  smitten  by  a  sense 
of  guilt,  and  going  to  the  telephone  confessed  to  the 
owner  of  the  canvas  what  he  had  done.  She  reassured 
him  however,  having  the  pupil's  feeling  that  whatever 
Chase  did  was  right,  and  Chase  retained  possession  of 
the  sixty -foot  canvas. 

Being  so  large  it  contained  more  space  than  he  would 
naturally  have  used,  and  within  thi£  space  the  picture 

[290] 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

had  to  be  composed.  He  seated  his  subject  therefore  to 
accommodate  the  shape  of  the  canvas  and  made  a  back- 
ground of  studio  accessories  deliciously  and  illusively 
touched  in.  Indeed  the  Japanesque  pattern  of  the  whole 

was  one  of  Chase's  .most  successful  effects.  His  sitter, 

^ 
however,  had  her  own  point  of  view,  with  reasons  if  they 

were  not  artistic  ones.  She  preferred  a  plain  background, 
she  said — anyway  those  were  not  her  things  in  the  back- 
ground, why  should  they  be  there?  She  did  not  want 
them. 

Chase  was  in  despair.  It  needed  the  sure  relentless 
shafts  of  a  Whistler  to  pierce  a  conviction  so  simple  and 
firm.  Chase  could  only  despair  and  groan:  "What  shall 
I  do?" 

Luckily  the  subject's  husband  had  a  different  view- 
point. With  some  innate  feeling  for  beauty  perhaps,  or 
with  the  realization  that  it  was  a  desirable  thing  to  have 
the  record  of  the  painter's  beautiful  studio  decorations 
in  his  possession,  he  told  his  wife  that  the  picture  must 
remain  quite  as  it  was,  and  so  fortunately  it  did. 

Chase's  work  in  pastel  is  worthy  of  special  considera- 
tion. In  his  effects  one  never  feels  any  obtruded  sense  of 
the  medium,  only  so  much  consciousness  of  it  as  enables 
him  to  utilize  its  special  quality — the  delicacy,  sugges- 
tiveness  and  lightness  of  pastel,  and  the  transparent 

[291  ] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

quality  obtainable  with  water-color.  He  often  com- 
mented to  his  pupils  upon  the  fact  that  the  water-colorist 
so  often  seemed  to  discard  all  idea  of  values  and  natu- 
ralistic effect  in  using  this  medium.  Considering  one  of 
these  fictitious  productions,  he  would  murmur  protest- 
ingly  in  his  eliminative  fragmentary  fashion:  ;'The 
state  of  mind  with  which  you  approached  it,  madam." 
[Chronic  water-colorists  are  usually  feminine.]  "Think 
of  it  as  if  it  were  something  else." 

In  addition  to  his  work  in  oil,  pastel,  and  water-color, 
Chase  made  a  few  etchings,  among  them  one  of  his  Court 
Jester,  one  of  Currier's  Whistling  Boy,  and  a  dry-point 
from  his  portrait  of  one  of  the  Piloty  children.  He  also 
experimented  with  monotypes  from  time  to  time,  but  it 
apparently  interested  him  little  to  work  without  color. 

Not  a  small  part  of  Chase's  contribution  to  the  under- 
standing of  art  lay  in  his  demonstration  of  the  painter's 
seeing  of  his  subject.  He  once  said  that  it  was  in  con- 
templation of  the  art  of  the  old  masters  that  he  first 
realized  that  the  subject  was  of  no  importance,  that  the 
painter's  interest  must  lie  in  the  quality  of  his  art.  He 
called  attention  to  the  fact  that  Raphael's  best  pictures 
were  not  his  religious  subjects  but  his  portraits  of  the 
men  and  women  of  his  time.  "Rembrandt's  Beef  in  the 
Louvre  is  finer  than  his  religious  pictures,"  he  once  re- 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

marked.   "From  that  one  canvas  I  feel  that  I  know 
Rembrandt." 

In  his  student  days  Chase  was  deeply  impressed  by  the 
remark  of  his  teacher,  Piloty,  that  the  next  great  art 
development  would  take  place  in  America.  He  never 
ceased  to  believe  in  the  art  destiny  of  his  country  or  to 
work  for  its  fulfilment.  He  never  expatriated  himself 
despite  the  lure  of  the  Old  World,  yet  none  can  say  that 
his  art  was  the  sufferer  thereby. 

Chase's  work,  it  must  be  admitted,  was  uneven.  So 
was  Tintoretto's,  perhaps  for  the  same  reason.  Both  men 
had  an  incessant  impulse  to  paint.  But  it  is  a  Philistine 
misconception  of  the  art  impulse  to  call  this  creative 
activity  industry  as  it  often  is  by  the  layman.  Rather 
is  it  the  result  of  a  great  and  exclusive  concentration  upon 
and  a  tremendous  and  absorbing  enthusiasm  for  just 
one  thing.  But  it  is,  perhaps  necessarily,  not  the  type  of 
talent  that  produces  the  greatest  average  in  results. 
The  conventional  Victorian  painter  was  as  even  as  a 
machine  in  his  correctness.  The  true  artist  is  never  even; 
but  the  degree  of  his  unevenness,  the  amount  of  inspira- 
tion, present  or  absent,  from  the  special  piece  of  work 
varies  with  the  individual  type.  With  Chase,  despite  his 
technical  brilliancy,  it  varied  considerably.  That  fact 
does  not  make  him  the  lesser  artist. 

[293] 


CHAPTER  XXV 
CHASE,  THE  ARTIST  (CONTINUED) 

THE  artist's  material  may  be  found  anywhere;  the 
subject  exists  in  the  eyes  of  the  painter.  It  becomes 
art  when  he  shows  us  how  he  has  seen  it.  The  lay  mind 
does  not  imagine  the  ancient  fish-basket  to  be  a  paint- 
able  object;  yet  there  is  one  in  a  Chase  canvas,  allied  to 
a  pink  fish  and  others,  subtly  brushed  in  in  rose  and 
brown,  that  is  as  unforgettable  to  the  artist  or  student 
as  a  Botticelli  Madonna  is  to  the  sentimentalist.  Few 
painters  could  discover  the  possibilities  of  the  too 
neighborly  seaside  cottage  as  a  subject;  yet  Chase  has 
so  treated  a  group  of  these  drearily  trim  little  houses 
that  they  have  the  light  charm  of  a  Japanese  print. 

In  short,  all  art  is  translation.  Pictorial  art  is  the 
record  of  the  exterior  beauty  of  the  world  as  seen  by  the 
eyes  of  the  artist.  Beauty,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  ex- 
plain in  these  days  of  the  eccentric,  grotesque,  and  de- 
cadent in  art,  does  not  mean  smooth  and  obvious  beauty. 
The  sin  of  prettiness  against  which  William  Chase  re- 
volted was  the  vice  of  the  Victorian  age.  Before  he  died 
he  came  to  inveigh  with  equal  consternation  against  the 
sin  of  meaningless  ugliness  and  inept  pretentiousness 
rampant  in  the  secession  art  of  the  hour. 

[294] 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

"Try  to  queer  your  composition  somehow.  See  it  in 
some  way  in  which  it  would  never  occur  to  you  to  ap- 
proach it,"  he  used  to  say  to  the  conventionally  minded 
pupil,  hoping  to  jog  the  routine  mind  out  of  its  rut.  But 
such  "queering"  of  composition  and  everything  else  as 
has  run  riot  for  the  last  nine  years  in  Europe  and  the 
last  three  or  four  in  America  was  surely  the  furthest 
thing  from  the  imagination  of  this  intrinsically  sane 
painter. 

In  defining  the  qualities  of  a  great  work  of  art,  Chase 
has  said  that  it  must  contain  three  things:  "truth,  qual- 
ity and  interesting  treatment."  Truth,  of  course,  in- 
cludes all  the  technical  necessities;  quality  he  character- 
ized as  the  ring  of  gold  compared  with  that  of  a  baser 
coin;  style  he  included  in  interesting  treatment.  But 
since  it  is  evident  that  a  picture  can  have  interesting 
treatment  and  yet  lack  the  subtle  tang  of  style,  the 
definition,  excellent  as  it  is,  may  only  be  considered  as 
broadly  inclusive — "and  that  is  the  trouble  with  talk- 
ing about  art,"  says  the  painter. 

It  seems  incredible  to  those  of  us  who  have  known 
him  in  his  later  years  that  in  the  first  days  of  his  return 
to  America  Chase  was  considered  an  intolerant,  aggres- 
sive, opinionated  person  by  the  older  painters  whose 
dry  and  dusty  art  he  was  demolishing.  We  who  are  fa- 

[295] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

miliar  with  his  kindness,  tact,  and  breadth  of  view,  his 
tolerance  of  all  sorts  and  kinds  of  achievement,  find  this 
difficult  to  imagine.  He  used  to  expend  his  scornful  wit 
upon  Murillo,  yet  for  contemporary  Murillos,  in  his  later 
days,  he  came  to  feel  a  kindly  toleration,  admitting  that 
they  had  accomplished  something  that  they  had  set  out 
to  do  however  it  might  differ  from  his  own  idea  of  art. 
His  charity  extended  to  all,  even,  to  a  degree,  to  that 
cult  calling  itself  variously  cubist,  futurist,  postimpres- 
sionist,  in  so  much  as  he  recognized  it  as  a  manifesta- 
tion of  the  law  of  periodicity  or  rhythm  in  art  (although 
he  did  not  call  it  that).  For  since  all  schools  tend  to 
crystallization,  revolt,  break-up  must  occur  in  order  to 
prevent  stagnation.  This  fact  Chase  fully  realized.  The 
bizarre  or  eccentric  he  appreciated  for  what  it  was 
worth  if  professionally  executed,  but  for  inefficiency  and 
failure  masquerading  as  revelation,  even  to  the  weak- 
headed  professional  painter  led  astray  by  that  singular 
epidemic,  he  had  nothing  but  scorn. 

At  one  time  he  was  asked  to  talk  before  an  audience 
very  sympathetic  to  secession  art.  Only  a  few  minutes 
before  he  had  been  discussing  the  subject  with  a  pupil 
in  his  broad-minded  way,  remarking  that  absurd  as  the 
productions  of  the  young  revolutionists  usually  were  in 
themselves — "a  consolation,"  as  he0 expressed  it,  "for 

[296] 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

their  stupidity" — they  were  nevertheless  the  inevitable 
protest  against  the  set  standards  created  by  schools.  But 
it  chanced  that  Chase's  predecessor  in  his  last  words  had 
referred  to  the  sketches  on  exhibition  as  "these  things," 
certainly  with  no  intention  of  disrespect  since  he  ad- 
mired them  profoundly.  Chase  got  up  immediately  after- 
ward. "I  am  glad  that  this  gentleman  has  properly  re- 
ferred to  these  productions  as  things,"  he  remarked. 
"/  was  about  to  make  the  mistake  of  calling  them  pic- 
tures." Having  been  started  on  this  line  by  the  cue  he 
had  been  unable  to  resist,  Chase  proceeded  to  make 
entertaining  fun  of  futurist  art.  The  result  was  that 
his  audience  regarded  him  more  or  less  scornfully  as  a 
"back  number,"  whereas  the  truth  was  that  in  his 
heart  and  mind  he  was  extending  all  possible  charity 
and  understanding  to  the  spirit  that  moved  the  sincere 
revolutionists,  even  though  unable  to  take  their  results 
seriously. 

For  the  early  American  painters  Chase  had  the  great- 
est respect  and  admiration.  In  one  of  his  public  talks 
on  art  he  remarked  that  Copley,  Stewart,  Morse,  Inman 
and  Sully  deserved  to  rank  among  the  great  painters. 

Among  the  old  masters  his  particular  gods  were 
Velasquez  and  Hals.  After  them  he  valued  most,  Rem- 
brandt, Titian,  Holbein,  Tintoretto,  De  Hooghe,  Ver- 

[297  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

meer,  Chardin  and  El  Greco.  Of  painters  of  a  later 
date,  Vollon,  Goya,  Fortuny,  Manet,  Stevens  and 
Mancini  were  his  favorites.  He  also  greatly  admired 
Boldini,  La  Touche,  Boudin,  Sorolla,  Brangwyn  and 
Monticelli;  to  which  list  must  be  added,  without  enter- 
ing further  into  his  contemporaneous  compatriotic  ad- 
mirations, Whistler  and  Sargent.  With  his  appreciation 
of  his  confreres  and  pupils,  Chase  was  generous  almost 
to  the  point  of  overstatement.  "I  would  have  been  glad 
to  have  painted  that  bit  myself,"  was  one  of  his  gener- 
ous tributes  to  gifted  pupils — adapted  from  Whistler,  it 
is  true,  but  none  the  less  encouraging  to  the  recipient. 

Yet  Chase  had  au  fond  a  very  just  estimate  of  modern 
American  art,  despite  that  surface  tendency  to  over- 
appreciation  which  was  the  outgrowth  of  his  kindness. 
"I  suppose  there  never  was  so  much  fairly  good  paint- 
ing done  as  is  turned  out  by  the  artists  of  to-day,"  he 
used  to  say,  "yet  there  is  nothing  quite  so  rare  as  really 
good  painting." 

Chase  not  only  introduced  America  to  the  works  of 
Manet,  since  he  was  instrumental,  as  has  been  told  in  a 
previous  chapter,  in  influencing  Alden  Weir  to  buy  two 
beautiful  Manets  for  the  Metropolitan  Museum,  but  he 
had  much  to  do  with  familiarizing  the  American  public 
with  the  name  of  Greco.  When  the  Metropolitan  Mu- 

[298] 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

seum  was  considering  the  purchase  of  the  Greco  Nativity, 
Daniel  Chester  French  sent  for  Chase  as  an  expert  upon 
Spanish  art  to  decide  whether  or  not  the  work  was 
genuine.  Chase  was  also  responsible  for  the  purchase 
of  El  Greco's  Crucifixion  for  the  Wilstach  Collection  in 
Philadelphia.  One  day  soon  after  this  last  picture  had 
been  hung,  Chase,  who  was  standing  before  it  in  the 
gallery,  was  accosted  by  a  gentleman  who  was  also  study- 
ing the  canvas.  "Can  you  tell  me,"  this  gentleman  anx- 
iously inquired,  "if  the  artist  had  any  authority  for  mak- 
ing the  figure  of  the  infant  Christ  so  emaciated?"  Mr. 
Chase  responded  with  considerable  dryness  that  he  was 
unable  to  furnish  any  data  upon  that  point.  "And 
why,"  pursued  the  conscientious  student  of  art,  "should  . 
a  picture  so  unpleasant  be  hung  upon  these  walls? 
Who  is  responsible  for  its  presence  here?"  Chase  turned 
upon  his  questioner — we  can  imagine  that  blue  light  of 
wrath  in  his  eye  that  came  when  his  shrine  was  invaded 
by  the  Philistine: 

"  I  am  proud  and  happy  to  state  that  I  am  the  person 
responsible  for  the  purchase  of  that  picture,  and  I  would 
have  you  understand,  sir,  that  you  are  standing  before 
the  work  of  a  great  master."  With  these  words  the 
painter  made  a  dramatic  exit  from  the  presence  of  the 
bewildered  critic  of  art.  To  Chase  such  an  incident  held 

[299  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

no  saving  light  of  humor.  It  was  an  outrage  that  rankled 
in  his  mind  for  long  afterward. 

Chase's  collection  of  pictures  at  one  time  included 
as  many  as  six  hundred  valuable  canvases,  including 
examples  of  Rubens,  Van  Dyck,  Jordaens,  Guyp,  Cluet, 
Corot,  Vollon,  Daubigny,  Ribot,  Manet,  Roybet,  Geri- 
cault,  Couture,  Jules  Dupre,  Villegas,  Isabey,  Jacques, 
Boudin,  Bastien-Lepage,  Georges  Michel,  La  Touche, 
Fromentin,  Alfred  Stevens,  Carolus  Duran,  El  Greco, 
Ribera,  Fortuny,  Sorolla,  Mancini,  Boldini,  De  Nittis, 
Raffaeli,  Martin  Rico,  Leibl,  Von  Lenbach,  Ziem,  Hans 
Makart,  Brangwyn,  Sargent,  Whistler,  La  Farge,  Blake- 
lock,  Duveneck,  Frank  Currier,  William  Hunt,  Twacht- 
man,  George  Innes,  Blum,  Wyatt  Eaton,  Gedney  Bunce, 
Irving  Wiles  and  F.  C.  Frieseke. 

His  collection  of  rings  is  famous,  also  the  interesting 
and  varied  collection  of  crosses  that  he  made  for  his 
wife.  In  addition  to  these  he  collected  at  various  times 
clocks  and  watches,  samovars  and  old  locks. 

Wherever  he  went  in  Europe  or  America  Chase  had  a 
studio.  His  Philadelphia  studio  was  said  to  be  quite  as 
handsome  as  the  Fourth  Avenue  place.  The  one  in  Ma- 
drid is  described  by  the  painters  who  saw  it  as  extraor- 
dinarily artistic.  Even  the  little  California  studio  was 
charming.  He  refused  to  live  without  "his  background. 

[300] 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

In  the  days  of  his  early  conflict  with  the  academi- 
cians Chase's  apprehensions  were  sometimes  unnecessarily 
aroused  about  his  own  work.  Christy  tells  an  anecdote 
of  the  Tenth  Street  Studio  days  when  Chase  had  painted 
a  brilliant  study  of  the  nude.  The  next  day,  wanting  to 
see  it  again,  Christy  wandered  into  the  adjoining  studio 
where  the  canvas  had  stood  upon  an  easel  and  discovered 
that  Chase  had  painted  it  out.  "Why,  Mr.  Chase,"  he 
exclaimed,  "why  did  you  paint  out  that  beautiful 
thing?"  Chase's  eyebrow  went  up  in  a  worried  frown. 

After  a  moment  he  said:  "Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth 

(a  "bonbon-box"  artist)  came  in  here  yesterday  and  he 
liked  it  so  well  I  thought  there  must  be  something  the 
matter  with  it." 

Christy  tells  another  anecdote  that  shows  Chase's 
characteristic  view-point  amusingly.  One  day  a  very  im- 
pressive-looking artist  came  to  the  studio  to  call  on 
Chase — a  person  having  what  is  known  as  a  great  com- 
mand of  language.  Young  Christy  was  much  impressed, 
and  decided  that  this  magnificent  being  could  be  none 
other  than  Sargent.  After  the  visitor  had  left  he  went  in 
and  questioned  Chase.  No,  Chase  replied,  his  guest  was 
not  a  great  painter.  Christy  was  astonished.  But  Chase 
shook  his  head  with  a  wise  smile.  "No,  they  never  are — 
that  sort.  Talks  too  well"  he  added  confidentially. 

[301] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

Chase  had  to  the  utmost  degree  the  quality  of  disin- 
terested and  impersonal  judgment;  he  could  value  the 
work  and  rejoice  in  the  success  of  the  man  who  had 
wronged  him  as  sincerely  as  if  the  painter  had  been  his 
loyal  friend.  He  was  himself  a  generous  patron  of  the 
arts,  buying  not  only  the  pictures  of  arrived  artists  but 
those  of  his  own  pupils  before  they  had  achieved  recog- 
nition, thus  conferring  it  upon  them. 

Chase  was  Jonas  Lie's  first  patron;  he  also  bought  the 
first  picture  sold  by  Salvatore  Guarino.  He  interested 
himself  in  Jerome  Meyer,  who  studied  with  him,  and  in 
Everett  Shinn,  who  was  not  one  of  his  pupils.  His  assist- 
ance to  his  pupil  C.  W.  Hawthorne  in  his  beginnings  was 
of  the  greatest  value  to  him.  He  also  encouraged  and 
helped  his  Philadelphia  pupil,  Leopold  Seiffert.  He  had 
much  to  do  with  starting  Schrey vogel  on  the  path  to  suc- 
cess. During  his  presidency  of  the  Society  of  American 
Artists  he  called  the  attention  of  the  jurors  to  the  work  of 
this  young  painter,  who  had  not  previously  met  with  rec- 
ognition. The  fact  that  Schreyvogel's  pictures  were  not 
only  admitted  but  that  one  of  them  received  the  prize 
at  that  exhibition  made  a  turning-point  in  his  career. 

Mrs.  Wadsworth,  the  mother  of  one  of  Chase's  promis- 
ing pupils  who  died  young,  tells  of  another  characteristi- 
cally generous  act.  o 

[  302  ] 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

One  day  at  Shinnecock  he  exhibited  to  his  class  a 
number  of  canvases,  the  work  of  a  young  man  who  was 
both  poor  and  talented — a  not  infrequent  combination. 
The  young  man  was  married,  it  seems,  and  had  children, 
and  had  decided  because  of  his  responsibilities  that  he 
must  give  up  painting  and  become  a  clerk.  But  this  the 
kindly  Chase,  having  seen  his  work,  instantly  decided 
he  must  not  do.  He  made  one  of  his  characteristic  ap- 
peals for  the  poor  young  artist,  insisting  that  his  talent 
justified  some  effort  on  their  part  to  give  him  a  start  and 
added:  "Just  think  what  a  poor  clerk  he  would  make!" 

Many  of  the  pupils  bought  sketches  at  once,  Chase,  of 
course,  taking  several  himself,  and  the  young  man  who 
had  come  so  close  to  giving  up  his  career  continued  to 
paint,  and  thanks  to  this  help  and  encouragement,  be- 
came a  successful  artist. 

Chase  was  interested  in  all  talented  young  artists, 
whether  they  were  his  pupils  or  not.  Another  gifted 
painter,  now  successful,  has  never  forgotten  how  when 
he  was  stranded  in  a  European  city,  living  in  the  very 
poorest  quarter  of  the  town,  Chase  took  him  out  with 
him  and  feted  him,  apparently  unaware  of  his  shabby 
clothes. 

Chase  was  more  than  generous  in  his  exchanges  with 
other  painters.  Henry  Poore  tells  of  his  own  experience, 

[303] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

which  made  a  deep  impression  upon  him.  On  the  open- 
ing day  of  Chase's  exhibition  at  the  National  Arts  Club 
Poore  ran  across  him.  After  greeting  his  fellow  artist 
Chase  inquired,  with  a  gesture  that  swept  the  room: 
"Well,  have  you  made  your  choice?"  Mr.  Poore,  rather 
overcome  by  this  generosity — for  the  exhibit  was  in  all 
respects  remarkable — selected  a  small  sketch,  but  Chase 
protested,  "I  had  thought  you  might  want  this,"  indi- 
cating a  splendid  fish  still-life.  What  was  more,  he  in- 
sisted upon  presenting  it. 

A  pupil  in  one  of  Chase's  European  classes  remembers 
how  Chase  once  offered  to  exchange  with  a  European 
painter  who,  although  most  appreciative  of  Chase  and 
his  art,  was  yet  so  far  removed  from  his  class  as  an 
artist  that  Chase's  act  could  only  seem  to  the  outsider 
a  condescension.  Chase  selected  a  little  sketch  of  this 
painter's  in  which  his  kindness  found  something  to  ad- 
mire and  gave  him  in  return  a  beautiful  fish  picture. 
When  the  pupil  protested,  "Oh,  Mr.  Chase,  you're  not 
going  to  give  him  that  beautiful  thing!"  his  character- 
istic reply  was,  "Why  not?  When  you  make  a  gift  give 
your  best."  There  spoke  the  innate  aristocracy  of  art. 

Concerning  his  own  work  and  the  value  the  future 
might  set  upon  it,  Chase  must  have  thought  frequently, 
although  he  seldom  spoke  of  it.  Sometimes  he  believed 

[304] 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

that  certain  canvases  of  his  would  last,  at  other  times  he 
only  hoped  they  would.  For  so  great  was  his  reverence 
for  art  and  so  high  his  ideal,  that  measuring  his  achieve- 
ment beside  it  he  felt  a  humility  perhaps  not  realized  or 
understood  by  those  who  knew  only  the  mask  and  habit 
of  the  outer  man.  At  such  moments  he  would  sometimes 
say  in  utter  sincerity  and  simplicity  to  one  near  and 
in  his  confidence:  "I  am  a  greatly  overrated  man." 

Birge  Harrison  quotes  one  of  Chase's  rare  remarks  on 
the  subject  of  posterity's  view-point.  When  going  about 
the  exhibition  of  the  Ten  American  Painters  with  Mr. 
Harrison  and  his  wife,  Chase  had  expended  his  generous 
hyperbole  upon  the  canvas  of  a  brother  artist. 

"There  is  a  masterpiece,"  he  said,  "a  canvas  that  can 
hold  its  own  beside  any  of  the  old  masters,"  and  Mrs. 
Harrison  quickly  added:  "And  those  fish  of  yours  could 
go  into  the  same  museum,  for  they  too  are  a  master- 
piece." Chase  seemed  not  to  hear,  but  when  she  repeated 
her  little  tribute,  he  replied:  "Yes,  yes,  I  suppose  that 
some  day  I  shall  be  known  only  as  a  painter  of  fish,  a 
painter  of  fish." 

While  it  is  not  possible  to  predict  what  value  the 
future  may  set  upon  any  of  the  art  of  to-day,  it  seems 
safe  to  say  that  the  Whistler  portrait,  Dorothy  and  Her 
Sister,  The  Red  Box,  and  Mother  and  Child,  not  to  speak 

[305  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

of  a  number  of  fine  quiet  Shinnecock  landscapes,  will 
last  as  long  as  the  most  brilliant  fish  picture  Chase  ever 
painted. 

Chase's  practical  services  to  art  were  too  various  and 
varied  to  be  enumerated.  He  has  served  as  juror  on  the 
committees  of  most  of  the  important  exhibitions  for  the 
last  thirty-five  years,  forfeiting  by  that  unselfish  alle- 
giance to  the  cause  of  art  his  own  eligibility  to  medals 
and  prizes.  In  that  position  alone  he  did  incalculable 
service  to  art  and  artists.  He  also  worked  for  many  years 
with  Beckwith,  Blashfield  and  other  painters  in  attempt- 
ing to  get  the  Free  Art  Bill  passed  so  that  foreign  works 
of  art  might  be  brought  into  the  country  free  of  duty. 

That  his  opinion  was  valued  by  his  confreres  is  a  fact 
that  is  quite  generally  acknowledged  by  them.  Anything 
that  Chase  knew  he  wanted  to  pass  on  for  the  cause  of 
art.  Walter  Palmer  has  commented  appreciatively  upon 
the  inspiring  quality  of  his  criticism. 

"  I  was  very  fond  of  Chase  and  always  found  him  most 
stimulating  with  his  intense,  never-failing  interest  in 
painting.  One  could  never  do  a  creditable  piece  of  work 
without  Chase  praising  it  at  his  first  opportunity,  and 
he  was  just  as  sure  to  tell  one  if  he  had  done  a  poor 
thing;  but  in  either  case  it  was  a  pleasure  to  have  his 
frank,  friendly  opinion.  I  remember  his  once  greeting  me 

[  306  ] 


DOROTHY  AND  HER  SISTER. 

Portrait  of  two  of  Chase's  daughters. 


CHASE,  THE  ARTIST 

after  seeing  something  I  had  painted  with  the  remark: 
'Palmer,  how  did  you  do  such  a  damned  bad  thing?' 

Frank  Benson  said  of  Chase:  "I  always  thought  of 
him,  as  we  all  did,  as  one  who  above  most  others  was 
an  artist  in  every  thought  and  act." 

Sargent  has  added  his  tribute:  "I  should  be  glad  to 
have  my  very  warm  friendship  for  Chase  and  my  great 
admiration  for  his  work  put  on  record." 

Those  who  came  more  closely  in  contact  with  him — 
Irving  Wiles,  Cecilia  Beaux,  Alden  Weir,  Carroll  Beck- 
with,  and  Frank  Duveneck — have  spoken  with  the  deep- 
est feeling  of  Chase  as  man  and  artist,  a  feeling  simply 
and  completely  expressed  by  Cecilia  Beaux  when  she 
said:  "He  was  always  so  rigkt,  his  judgment  was  so 
dependable  and  his  kindness  and  generosity  never  failed. 
We  miss  him  terribly;  no  one  can  take  his  place." 

Aside  from  those  artists  already  quoted,  E.  H.  Blash- 
field,  Sir  John  Lavery,  F.  S.  Church,  Percy  Moran,  T.  W. 
Dewing,  Charles  Dana  Gibson,  Siddons  Mowbray,  Will 
Low,  Childe  Hassam,  Birge  Harrison  and  a  host  of  others 
have  paid  their  tribute  to  Chase's  achievement,  his  gen- 
erous attitude  toward  the  work  of  other  painters,  and  his 
unselfish  devotion  to  the  cause  of  art. 

Professional  jealousy  was  not  only  non-existent  in  him, 
it  was  not  understandable  to  his  nature.  He  wanted  first 

[307] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

and  always  that  the  purposes  of  art  should  be  served. 
To  that  end  he  devoted  his  life.  All  that  was  best,  finest, 
most  generous,  most  unselfish  in  Chase's  character  was 
centred  in  art,  not  just  in  his  own  personal  expression 
but  art  in  the  abstract,  art  the  eternal  illusive  goddess. 
As  his  old  friend  and  confrere,  Frank  Duveneck,  said  of 
him,  he  "did  not  care  whose  art  it  was,  his  own  or  some 
other  painter's,  so  long  as  it  was  good  art." 


[308] 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
CHASE,  THE   TEACHER 

CHASE  once  said:  "I  believe  I  am  the  father  of  more 
art  children  than  any  other  teacher."  And  indeed 
it  seemed  in  some  such  paternal  light  that  he  regarded 
his  pupils.  The  side  that  he  turned  toward  them  was 
one  of  unceasing  helpfulness  and  generosity.  Anything 
that  he  had  to  give  he  gave  freely.  The  very  way  in 
which  he  said  "an  old  pupil  of  mine"  seemed  an  expres- 
sion of  affection.  Mrs.  Chase  used  to  say  that  a  person 
need  only  claim  distant  relationship  to  a  pupil  to  insure 
his  instant  attention.  He  invariably  thought  of  them  in 
the  affectionate  diminutive. 

The  feminine  students,  whatever  their  height,  weight, 
or  years,  were  all  "little  Miss  So-and-So,"  the  men  all 
"young  This  or  That,"  whatever  their  age  or  condition. 

Chase  had  classes  in  New  York,  Brooklyn,  Philadel- 
phia, Hartford  and  Chicago.  He  taught  altogether 
twenty-one  years  at  the  Art  League,  twelve  years  at  the 
New  York  School  of  Art,  thirteen  years  in  Philadelphia 
and  five  in  Brooklyn,  in  addition  to  the  classes  held  in 
his  own  studio.  He  had  summer  classes  in  California, 
England,  Italy,  Belgium,  Holland  and  Spain,  and  taught 
for  eleven  summers  at  Shinnecock.  Also  while  he  was 

[309  ] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

teaching  in  Philadelphia  Chase  had  a  free  class  for  stu- 
dents who  could  not  afford  to  pay  for  instruction.  The 
city  gave  him  the  use  of  a  public  school  for  this  purpose. 

"Association  with  my  pupils  has  kept  me  young  in  my 
work,"  he  often  said.  "Criticism  of  their  work  has  kept 
my  own  point  of  view  clear." 

There  are  comparatively  few  painters  who  do  not 
actually  dislike  teaching,  and  among  those  who  do  not 
the  majority  are  men  whose  gift  is  rather  for  verbal 
criticism  than  for  expression  with  the  brush.  With  Chase 
the  case  was  entirely  different.  He  loved  to  teach,  but  his 
criticism  was  always  a  painter's  criticism,  suggestive 
rather  than  explicit. 

"Try  to  think  of  it  as  if  it  were  something  else,"  he 
would  say  to  the  pupil  using  water-color  in  the  conven- 
tional tinted  water-color  manner.  "Could  you  see  as 
much  as  that?"  he  asked  another  too  faithful  in  detail. 
And  to  the  honest  young  student  in  the  museum  who 
said  she  did  not  like  the  Manet  Woman  with  the  Parrot, 
his  kindly,  amused  reply,  "No?  Oh,  but  you  will,"  was 
always  remembered  as  a  starting-point.  Concerning  those 
things  that  can  come  only  with  the  growth  of  percep- 
tion, he  did  not  instruct  but  left  them  to  time. 

In  this  connection  he  often  referred  to  a  well-known 
collector  who  used  to  consult  him  about  his  pictures. 

[310] 


CHASE,  THE  TEACHER 

This  man  had  begun  collecting  alone  and  unadvised 
with  no  real  knowledge  about  pictures  and  Chase  con- 
sidered him  an  excellent  illustration  of  how  the  taste 
might  be  educated  by  the  contemplation  of  art.  "He  has 
still  in  his  collection,"  Chase  used  to  tell  us,  "the  first 
picture  he  ever  bought,  a  small  thing" — he  would  pause 
there  while  an  expression  of  pain  contorted  his  eye- 
brows— "small  but  terrible.  .  .  .  That  picture  he  has 
kept  on  the  walls  of  his  gallery  to  show  his  starting- 
point,  for  his  collection  is  now  one  of  the  finest  in  this 
country." 

To  the  pupil  with  a  tiresome  literal  manner  who  needed 
a  vigorous  shaking  up  he  spoke  more  incisively,  but  never 
unkindly.  Indeed,  more  than  one  unpromising  pupil 
who  seemed  in  student  days  utterly  lacking  in  the  sense 
of  art  has  somehow  under  his  inspiring  influence  become 
a  real  painter. 

With  all  sensitiveness  he  refrained  from  making  any 
criticism  that  might  deflect  or  restrain  the  individual 
tendency  of  a  talented  student.  The  way  in  which  Chase 
from  his  first  years  of  teaching  studied  the  needs  of  the 
pupil  with  individuality  was  well  illustrated  in  the  case  of 
Livingston  Platt  who  had  a  natural  bent  for  decorative 
art  before  the  period  when  that  was  an  available  talent. 

Chase  noticed  how  this  student  in  his  life  class  at  the 

[311] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

League  drew  from  unusual  view-points  and  always  did 
something  that  got  away  a  little  from  the  actual  pose 
of  the  model.  After  watching  Platt's  work  a  while  he 
told  him  to  paint  still  life,  but  the  same  tendency  mani- 
fested itself.  Platt  seemed  to  paint  not  what  he  saw  but 
something  that  the  thing  he  saw  suggested.  Finally 
Chase  requested  his  unconventional  pupil  to  paint  a 
single  object,  but  when  he  came  to  criticise  him  he  found 
that  he  had  been  disobeyed.  Platt,  unable  to  resist  the 
temptation  to  make  "an  arrangement,"  had,  contrary 
to  his  master's  instruction,  combined  other  objects  with 
his  solitary  jar. 

The  next  experiment  Chase  made  with  this  non-con- 
forming young  disciple  was  to  invite  him  to  go  with  him 
when  he  painted  in  the  park.  Chase  noted  that  his 
pupil's  sketches  were  invariably  done  in  a  lighter  key 
than  his  own  and  were  rather  a  harmonious  disposition 
of  the  facts  before  him  than  a  regulation  landscape  such 
as  might  have  been  expected  from  a  student. 

"You  ought  to  be  a  decorator,"  Chase  said  then,  "but 
I  don't  know  what  you  will  find  to  decorate.  You  should 
do  something  like  theatrical  scene-painting  if  such  things 
were  sufficiently  artistic  to  justify  the  painter  in  using 
his  talents  that  way." 

That,  however,  was  exactly  what  cajne  to  pass  in  time. 

[312] 


CHASE,  THE  TEACHER 

Several  years  later  when  such  openings  first  presented 
themselves,  Platt  started  to  make  decorative  stage-set- 
tings, first  in  Belgium,  then  in  America.  His  sketches 
and  costumes  for  De  Koven's  "Canterbury  Pilgrims," 
given  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House  last  winter, 
were  chosen  in  the  prize  competition.  The  fact  is  in- 
teresting not  only  as  an  example  of  Chase's  treatment 
of  the  pupil's  special  gift  but  because  it  shows  how  he 
foresaw  even  in  that  day  of  conventional  stage-setting 
what  the  artist  might  do  for  the  theatre. 

In  another  way  Chase  might  have  contributed  to  the- 
atrical art  had  managerial  enlightenment  been  greater. 
He  was  once  asked  to  design  the  costumes  for  a  play 
whose  scene  was  laid  in  the  sixties.  He  made  some 
exquisite  drawings  in  color,  enjoying  the  wide  sweep  of 
the  hoop-skirt  with  visions  of  Velasquez's  use  of  that 
effect  flitting  through  his  imagination.  But  when  the 
manager  saw  them  he  laughed  the  artist  to  scorn  and 
brought  out  his  play  with  costumes  made  in  the  current 
fashion.  A  few  years  later  however,  when  the  manager's 
education  had  progressed,  he  quietly  utilized  Chase's  idea 
in  the  costuming  of  another  play. 

Chase's  patience  with  the  rebel  student  was  unfailing. 
When  his  knowledge  or  his  standards  were  questioned  it 
was  not  resentment  that  he  felt  but  toleration  and  un- 

[313] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

derstanding.  "Because,  you  see,  I  was  a  rebel  once  my- 
self," he  exclaimed.  He  had  at  one  time  a  talented 
young  pupil  who  scorned  his  interest  and  assistance  even 
to  the  point  of  discourtesy  to  his  master.  "I  would 
have  liked  to  help  him,  but  he  didn't  seem  to  want  my 
help,"  was  his  only  comment.  The  student  afterward 
went  abroad  to  study  and  did  good  work  which  Chase 
liked  so  well  that  he  bought  one  of  his  canvases.  When 
the  ambitious  young  artist  heard  of  this  purchase  his 
heart  was  touched — through  his  vanity,  it  is  to  be 
feared — and  after  that  he  had  nothing  but  admiring  things 
to  say  of  Chase. 

Chase's  less  original  pupils  imitated  him,  sometimes 
later  to  find  their  own  manner,  but  he  never  encouraged 
such  imitation.  His  patience  in  explanation  even  with 
the  apparently  ungifted  pupil  was  unfailing,  for  he  real- 
ized that  sometimes  the  student  who  seemed  to  show 
little  progress  at  first,  afterward  developed  most  satis- 
factorily. 

He  never  ceased  to  warn  against  the  sin  of  prettiness. 
"I  have  often  thought  that  those  old  Dutch  painters 
were  fortunate  in  having  such  ugly  subjects,"  he  would 
say  in  his  talks  to  students  (but  that  was  before  the 
day  of  ladies  with  one  eye  and  no  mouth,  executed  as 
with  the  ill-regulated  brush  of  the  ^five-year-old,  and 

[314] 


CHASE,  THE  TEACHER 

solemnly  or  insincerely  signed  by  the  mature  painter!). 
To  find  beauty  in  the  thing  that  does  not  obviously  sug- 
gest it,  to  realize  that  nothing  in  art  is  more  difficult  and 
dangerous  than  the  painting  of  the  frankly  beautiful 
thing — such  comments  are  sign-posts  for  the  student, 
and  should  go  far  to  make  the  painter's  attitude  under- 
standable to  the  layman. 

Often  in  praising  the  sketch  of  a  student  in  which  the 
impression  had  been  freshly  caught,  he  would  say:  "I 
envy  you  the  good  time  you  had  doing  that."  It  was  his 
belief  that  the  great  canvases  of  the  world  were  easily 
done,  since  it  is  true  of  all  art  that  a  thing  can  be  com- 
pletely expressed  only  when  all  preliminary  processes  are 
assimilated  and  have  become  second  nature.  The  painter 
of  the  Rossetti  type  possessed  by  the  sentimental  or 
literary  idea  usually  neglects  the  essential  technical 
foundation.  The  very  mention  of  such  a  painter  or  such 
a  standpoint  was  sufficient  to  bring  a  cloud  to  Chase's 
usually  serene  brow,  but  he  did  not  believe  in  argument 
on  these  subjects.  He  used  to  say:  "I  would  cross  the 
street  any  day  to  avoid  a  man  who  differs  with  me  on 
the  subject  of  art  and  insists  upon  discussing  it."  One's 
convictions  and  choice  once  established,  he  believed  that 
nothing  was  gained  by  dispute.  He  invariably  cautioned 
his  pupils  against  it,  advising  them  to  associate  with 

[315] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

those  whose  artistic  convictions  agreed  with  their  own, 
since  the  artist's  mental  state  should  always  be  as  serene 
as  possible. 

Chase  used  to  be  called  by  those  artists  and  commen- 
tators upon  art  who  have  literary  leanings,  a  painter  of 
the  outside  merely. 

Although  remarks  concerning  the  so-called  "soul"  of 
the  subject,  that  mysterious  thing  which  is  supposed  by 
picture-lovers  with  the  emotional  and  literary  view- 
point to  be  impaled  upon  the  canvas,  somewhat  dis- 
turbed the  painter,  he  was  willing  to  discuss  it  in  his 
suggestive  fashion  with  the  pupil  not  yet  free  from  senti- 
mental yearnings.  "Do  not  imagine  that  I  would  dis- 
regard the  thing  that  lies  beneath  the  mask,"  he  said, 
"but  be  sure  that  when  the  outside  is  rightly  seen,  the 
thing  that  lies  under  the  surface  will  be  found  upon  your 
canvas." 

It  was  amusing  when  Chase  criticised  to  watch  the 
thing  that  took  place  in  his  mind  as  he  talked.  He  would 
begin  very  kindly  and  patiently,  pointing  out  the  defects, 
passing  on  to  an  indication  of  the  dangers  of  such  de- 
fects if  uncorrected;  then,  if  the  fault  chanced  to  be 
one  of  his  pet  aversions — overconscientiousness  or,  still 
worse,  prettiness — he  continued  to  warn,  picturing  the 
terrible  results  that  might  ensue,  until 'lie  had  gradually 

[316] 


CHASE,  THE  TEACHER 

lashed  himself  into  a  state  of  indignation  that  was  almost 
fury  over  the  vision  his  imagination  had  conjured  up, 
so  that  he  sometimes  left  the  easel  of  a  favorite  and 
promising  pupil  crimson  with  potential  wrath. 

Chase's  associates  on  juries  were  sometimes  amused 
by  his  conscientiousness  in  considering  work  that  seemed 
to  the  eyes  of  less  unselfish  painters  unworthy  of  serious 
attention.  One  fellow  juryman  aware  of  Chase's  fatherly 
attitude  toward  his  pupils  who  discovered  him  bending 
attentive  glasses  upon  a  rather  unimportant  sketch  be- 
fore it  was  cast  aside,  called  out:  "It's  all  right,  Chase, 
you  don't  know  her." 

Certain  phrases  of  his — whimsical,  kindly,  humorous, 
impressionistic — will  always  linger  in  the  memory  of  his 
students.  In  contemplating  one  of  those  peculiarly  dreary 
landscapes  sometimes  offered  by  students  for  criticism, 
the  thought  that  found  words  was:  "How  terrible  if 
nature  should  come  to  look  to  you  like  that."  Once, 
after  he  had  given  a  long  careful  criticism  upon  a  most 
unpromising  piece  of  work,  a  Central  Park  sketch  exe- 
cuted in  raw  and  clashing  colors,  only  to  be  met  at  the 
end  with  renewed  questions  from  the  complacent  ama- 
teur showing  that  she  had  not  understood  a  word  he  had 
said,  the  painter's  patience  gave  way.  "What  I  mean, 
madam,  is  that" — he  paused  helplessly,  then  brought  it 

[O  "I  <*•     ~\ 
*>!<  j 


WILLIAM  MERR1TT  CHASE 

out  desperately — "if  it  looks  like  that  in  the  park,  7 
don't  want  to  go  there !" 

To  another  misguided  pupil  he  said  once:  "You  have 
put  enough  work  on  that  one  daisy  to  have  painted  a 
whole  study."  And  to  one  who  presented  a  hard,  tight 
little  landscape:  "You  might  crack  a  nut  on  that  sky." 

In  considering  a  canvas  false  to  some  basic  principle 
of  color,  line  or  value  Chase  would  often  remark:  "If  it 
looks  like  that  to  you,  perhaps  you'd  do  well  to  consult 
an  ocuh'st,  sir  [or  madam]." 

Upon  one  occasion,  criticising  a  pupil  working  with 
deliberate  affectations,  the  young  man  after  Chase's 
protest — "Why  don't  you  paint  things  as  you  see  them  ?  " 
—thought  to  forestall  his  master  and  with  impertinent 
insincerity  suggested:  "Perhaps  there  is  something  the 
matter  with  my  eyes,  Mr.  Chase."  But  he  had  reckoned 
without  his  Chase.  The  master  adjusted  his  glasses, 
lifted  one  eyebrow,  and  gave  the  young  man  a  brief 
glance.  "I  think  not,  I  think  not!  In  your  case,  sir,  the 
trouble  is  a  little  higher  up." 

Yet  his  comments,  even  when  they  seemed  but  the 
seizure  of  an  irresistible  opportunity,  were  never  merely 
amusing.  The  fundamental  art  principle  was  always  there. 
They  could  illumine  a  whole  pathway  for  the  student. 

As  positive  advice  he  suggested,  "Be^a  picture  worm"; 

[318] 


CHASE,  THE  TEACHER 

and  as  negative  but  important  hint,  "Beware  the  bird's- 
eye  view !"  Another  comment  that  always  seemed  to  me 
a  rule  for  the  sincere  student  to  carry  all  his  days  for 
preservation  of  the  right  state  of  mind  and  nerves  was: 
"Combine  a  certain  amount  of  indifference  with  your 
ambition.  Be  carefully  careless.  If  you  don't  succeed  to- 
day, there  is  always  to-morrow." 

"Do  not  try  to  paint  the  grandiose  thing.  Paint  the 
commonplace  so  that  it  will  be  distinguished"  is  a  rule 
that  his  own  work  well  exemplifies  and  that  the  artist 
can  never  afford  to  forget.  Another,  "Learn  to  paint  so 
well  that  you  can  conceal  your  own  dexterity,"  is  an 
answer  to  those  older  academic  painters  who  maintained 
that  Chase  cared  only  for  the  externals  of  art.  On  that 
same  subject  he  said:  "I  fear  some  people  confuse 
technic  with  slashing  brush  strokes.  Consider  Holbein, 
whose  calm  surfaces  show  him  to  be  one  of  the  world's 
greatest  masters  of  the  technical  side  of  art." 

Another  bit  of  advice  helpful  not  only  for  student 
days  but  through  the  painter's  entire  career  is:  "Don't 
try  to  make  comparisons  between  your  own  pictures. 
Forget  what  you  have  done  and  think  only  of  making 
the  best  of  what  you  are  doing." 

"Don't  try  to  say  the  last  word,"  "Don't  paint  in  an 
apologetic  way,"  "When  you  begin  to  wonder  what  to 

['319] 


WILLIAM  MERRITT  CHASE 

do,  stop,"  are  a  few  out  of  a  long  list  of  Chase's  sug- 
gestive maxims. 

Another  remark  remembered  by  Reynolds  Beal  is  very 
characteristic  of  Chase's  humor  and  his  clear  common 
sense:  "If  the  artist  paints  his  picture  squinting  the  pub- 
lic will  not  see  it  as  he  saw  it  and  he  should  put  over 
his  canvas  when  he  exhibits  it,  'Please  squint  at  this  pic- 
ture.' "  Sargent,  Chase  told  his  pupils,  opened  his  eyes 
wider  than  usual  when  he  looked  at  a  picture  in  order 
to  cover  with  his  vision  as  large  a  space  as  possible. 
Mr.  Beal  tells  another  anecdote  that  shows  how  Chase 
struggled  to  make  his  pupils  understand  the  purpose 
and  destiny  of  the  artist.  "Try  to  paint  the  unusual 
thing,"  the  master  said — of  course,  referring  to  the 
manner  of  painting,  not  the  choice  of  subject — to  which 
Mr.  Beal  replied:  "Then  people  will  say,  'Whoever  saw 
such  a  looking  thing !' : 

"Exactly,"  replied  Chase;  "it  is  the  artist  who  points 
out  the  unusual  and  educates  the  public." 

Chase's  instructions  if  seldom  specific  enough  to  sug- 
gest the  recipe  were  always  definite  enough  to  carry  un- 
derstanding to  the  pupil  ready  to  receive  what  he  had  to 
give.  He  would  speak  upon  occasion  of  such  purely  tech- 
nical points  as  how  to  start  a  canvas.  "Note  first  your 
highest  lights  and  darkest  dark."  Another  suggestion 

[320] 


CHASE,  THE  TEACHER 

designed  to  make  the  student  remember  the  charm  and 
subtlety  of  delicate  values  and  the  light  touch  was:  "The 
successful  picture  ought  to  look  as  if  it  had  been  blown 
on  the  canvas  with  one  puff." 

One  of  his  few  concrete  suggestions  dealt  with  the  use 
of  white  which  he  considered  rather  a  dangerous  pig- 
ment for  the  student  to  handle,  since  white  painted  is  in 
reality  anything  but  white,  and  at  one  time  he  did  not 
keep  it  on  his  own  palette.  Instead,  he  mixed  a  light  gray 
and  had  a  paint-dealer  put  it  up  in  tubes  for  him.  The 
next  time  he  went  to  the  shop  he  was  surprised  to  find 
it  on  sale  under  the  name  of  "Chase  gray." 

What  William  Chase  gave  to  his  fellow  artists  and 
pupils  in  his  living,  creating  presence,  his  beautiful  en- 
thusiasm ever  helping  to  keep  alive  the  spirit  of  art,  he 
can  give  no  more  save  as  his  deeds  live  in  our  memories. 
But  the  stamp  that  his  influence  left  upon  his  time  is 
ineffaceable. 

Essential  artist  that  he  was,  he  was  ever  humble  be- 
fore the  great  spirit  of  art.  In  his  mind  there  remained 
always  the  distance  between  his  ideal  and  his  achieve- 
ment, a  deep  feeling  expressed  once  when,  after  showing 
a  number  of  his  pictures  to  a  guest,  he  pointed  to  a  blank 
canvas.  "But  that  is  my  masterpiece,"  he  said,  "my  un- 
painted  picture." 

[321  ] 


CHAPTER   XXVII 
THE  END 

THE  winter  of  1915-16,  as  has  been  said,  Chase 
continued  with  his  private  class,  but  he  did  less 
painting  than  usual.  Although  not  aware  that  he  had 
any  serious  ailment,  he  was  conscious  of  not  feeling  him- 
self. He  painted  a  small  self-portrait  the  last  year  of  his 
life  and  several  others,  among  them  one  of  Mrs.  Eldredge 
Johnson  and  one  of  Mr.  A.  B.  Gwathmey.  Both  are  bril- 
liant and  characteristic  examples  of  the  real  Chase. 

In  the  spring  he  gave  a  talk  to  the  students  of  the 
Art  League — his  last.  In  May  he  went  to  the  meeting  of 
the  Federation  of  Arts  in  Washington,  the  last  public 
function  that  he  was  to  attend.  In  June  the  New  York 
University  conferred  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws  upon 
him.  That  same  month  he  painted  a  portrait  for  the 
Allied  Bazaar. 

Not  wishing  to  leave  his  physician,  he  remained  in 
town  through  the  summer,  growing  steadily  weaker. 
He  continued  to  go  to  his  studio,  working  as  long  as  his 
strength  permitted.  The  portrait  of  Mr.  Gwathmey, 
referred  to  above,  was  his  last  work. 

In  September  he  went  with  Mrs.  Chase  to  Atlantic 
City.  Before  he  left  he  dragged  himself  to  his  studio 
and  gathered  together  his  paints. 

[322] 


PORTRAIT  OF  A.  B.  GWATHMEY. 

The  last  portrait  painted  by  Chase. 


'You  aren't  going  to  try  to  paint  while  you  are 
there?"  exclaimed  a  distressed  pupil  who  was  in  the 
studio,  but  Chase  answered  with  his  pathetic  cheerful- 
ness: "Of  course  I  am!  There's  nothing  like  painting 
.  .  .  nothing  like  work." 

On  the  way  home  he  stopped  at  a  Chinese  shop  to  see 
if  the  man  had  anything  new  and  interesting.  It  was  his 
last  walk  in  New  York. 

The  first  days  of  his  stay  in  Atlantic  City  Chase  was 
able  to  walk  a  short  distance.  He  bought  a  few  rings  at 
a  near-by  shop  and  yearned  for  a  very  expensive  piece  of 
brocade,  which  he  was  finally  persuaded  to  do  without. 
He  strongly  desired  a  Japanese  hanging  of  dark  blue  and 
silver  that  he  saw  in  a  window.  This  Mrs.  Chase  had 
sent  to  the  hotel  as  a  surprise  for  him.  He  took  a  great 
fancy  to  this  decoration,  and  when  he  went  home  had  it 
placed  where  he  could  see  it  from  his  bed. 

From  Atlantic  City  he  wrote  a  short,  pathetically 
optimistic  letter  to  his  sisters-in-law  to  whom  he  had 
been  attached  for  so  many  years. 

"MY  DEAR  GOOD  SlSTERSI— 

"Just  a  line  to  say  that  I  fully  appreciate  your  con- 
cern about  me.  I  think  we  did  well  to  come  down.  Toady 
has  of  course  written  and  told  you  of  the  perfect  weather 
we  are  having.  With  all  that  and  the  ideal  nursing  I  am 

[323  ] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

getting  from  Toady,  I  believe  I  am  getting  better.  I  hope 
both  of  you  are  feeling  well  (I  have  come  to  envy  anyone 
who  does).  Time  for  medicine  so  I  will  say  goodbye  for 

this  time.  With  my  blessing  to  you. 

"WILL." 

He  was  too  weak  to  paint  during  those  last  weeks,  but 
he  continually  begged  his  wife  to  take  out  his  paints, 
as  if  through  her  he  might  give  out  the  thing  he  wanted  to 
express.  Perhaps,  too,  the  unfailing  instinct  of  the  teacher 
still  survived  in  him.  Too  ill  to  read  and  not  wanting  to 
be  read  to,  he  cared  only  to  talk  of  pictures  and  art, 
reviewing  with  his  wife,  as  she  has  told  in  her  foreword, 
the  art  treasures  of  the  European  galleries — playing  a 
sort  of  game  of  "remembering"  each  detail  of  a  canvas, 
even  its  placing  upon  the  gallery  wall,  and  what  other 
pictures  were  in  that  same  room. 

He  did  not  realize  that  he  could  not  live  and  spent 
hours  talking  over  his  future  plans  with  his  wife.  At  last 
as  he  only  grew  weaker,  he  was  taken  back  to  New  York. 
The  last  two  days  of  his  life  he  was  unconscious.  On 
October  25th  he  died. 

A  few  days  before  his  death,  while  he  was  still  able  to 
talk,  his  friend  Irving  Wiles  came  to  see  him,  the  only 
person  outside  the  family  to  see  him  after  his  return  to 

[324] 


THE  END 

New  York.  Although  very  weak  and  near  the  end,  he 
had  sent  to  his  studio  for  some  pictures  which  he  re- 
quested to  have  hung  upon  the  wall  to  show  his  painter 
friend.  An  artist  to  his  innermost  soul,  that  last  char- 
acteristic act  has  a  touching  significance  to  those  who 
knew  and  loved  him. 

As  his  wife  was  leaving  the  room  to  tell  Wiles  to  enter, 
he  called  her  back.  He  wanted  the  Japanese  hanging,  his 
newest  toy,  arranged  so  that  it  would  show  all  its  beauties 
to  the  other  artist.  Before  he  died  he  expressed  the  wish 
that  Wiles  should  finish  his  unfinished  portrait  com- 
missions. 

The  debt  of  American  art  to  William  Merritt  Chase 
has  yet  to  be  computed  in  its  entirety.  It  will  gather  in- 
terest with  the  years,  for  whatever  valuation  the  future 
may  put  upon  his  work,  his  lifelong  service  to  the  art  he 
loved  must  last  as  long  as  there  are  records  and  histories 
of  art. 


[325  ] 


LOCATION  OF  CHASE'S  PICTURES 

The  following  is  a  list  of  Chase's  pictures  owned  by 
museums  and  public  galleries: 

BOSTON— Museum  of  Fine  Arts: 

Still  Life— Fish. 

CHICAGO — Art  Institute: 

Alice. 

North  River  Shad. 

CINCINNATI — Museum  Association: 
The  Mirror. 
Still  Life. 

Woman  with  Basket. 
Still  Life. 
Robert  Blum. 

DETROIT — Museum  of  Art: 

Yield  of  the  Waters. 
Self-Portrait. 

FLORENCE,  ITALY — Uffizi  Palace: 

Self-Portrait. 

INDIANAPOLIS — John  Herron  Art  Institute: 

After  the  Shower. 

Dorothy. 

Still  Life. 

Fish— Still  Life. 
NEW  YORK  CITY — 

Brooklyn  Museum : 

The  Antiquary's  Shop. 

In  the  Studio. 

Japanese  Study;  a  Portrait. 

Fish. 

Lydia  Field  Emmett. 

o 

[326] 


LOCATION  OF  CHASE'S  PICTURES 

Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art: 

Lady  in  Black. 

Carmencita. 

Seventeenth  Century  Lady. 

Still  Life. 

Shinnecock  Hall. 
Union  League  Club : 

Ready  for  the  Ride. 
PHILADELPHIA — 

Pennsylvania  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts: 

Lady  with  a  White  Shawl. 

Still  Life— Fish. 
Wilstach  Gallery: 

Still  Life. 

PITTSBURGH — Carnegie  Institute: 
Mrs.  Chase. 
William  N.  Frew. 
English  Cod. 
Tenth  Street  Studio. 

POUGHKEEPSIE — Taylor  Art  Building,  Vassar  College: 
James  Monroe  Taylor. 

PROVIDENCE — Rhode  Island  School  of  Design: 
The  Lady  in  Pink. 
In  Venice. 

Study  of  Girl's  Head. 
Dorothy. 
Still  Life. 

RICHMOND,  INDIANA — Art  Association: 
Self-Portrait. 

ST.  Louis — City  Art  Museum: 
Still  Life. 

Courtyard  of  an  Orphan  Asylum. 
Holland. 
An  Old  Salt. 
Contemplation. 

[327] 


WILLIAM   MERRITT  CHASE 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 

Corcoran  Gallery  of  Art: 

The  Model  (pastel). 
An  English  Cod. 

National  Gallery  of  Art: 

Shinnecock  Hills. 

YOUNGSTOWN,  OHIO: 

Master  Roland. 

The  following  portraits  by  Chase  are  owned  by  col- 
leges and  other  public  associations: 

Doctor  Andrews — Brown  University. 

Doctor  Reynolds — Chicago  University. 

Doctor  James  Taylor — Vassar  College. 

Doctor  Angell — University  of  Michigan. 

Reverend  Arthur  Brooks — Church  of  the  Incarnation. 

Captain  Casey — Seventh  Regiment  Armory. 

John  F.  Kennedy — Presbyterian  Hospital. 

Frederick  S.  Sturges — Presbyterian  Hospital. 

Dean  Grosvenor — Synod  Hall,  Cathedral  of  St.  John  the  Divine. 

Robert  Buchanan — The  White  House. 

Seth  Low — Borough  Hall,  Brooklyn,  New  York. 

Clyde  Fitch — Amherst  College. 

Emil  Paur — Lotus  Club. 

Louis  Windmiiller — Reform  Club. 

Doctor  De  Forest  Willard — University  of  Pennsylvania. 

Sir  William  Osier — University  of  Pennsylvania. 

Of  Chase's  copies  from  the  old  masters  the  following 
are  owned  by  public  galleries  and  associations: 

Cooper  Union  Buildings — 

Committee  Women  by  Frans  Hals :  Museum^of  Decorative  Arts. 

[328] 


LOCATION  OF  CHASE'S  PICTURES 

Game,   Original   in   Schleisheim   Gallery,   by   Ferdinand    Bol: 

Museum. 

Painting  of  a  War  Scene  by  Karl  von  Piloty:  Museum  of  Art. 
Portrait  by  Van  Dyck:  Woman's  Art  School. 
Menippus  by  Velasquez:  Woman's  Art  School. 
Figure   from    St.   Joris    Shooting   Company  by  Frans    Hals: 

Woman's  Art  School. 

Msop  by  Velasquez:  Woman's  Art  School. 
Portrait  by  Rubens:  Woman's  Art  School. 

The  Nelson  Collection  of  Copies  of  Old  Masters,  Indianapolis — 
The  Standard  Bearer,  Frans  Hals.      Detail  of  La  Compagnie 

Maigre  from  the  Rijks  Museum,  Amsterdam. 
Las  Meninas,  Velasquez:  Prado  Museum,  Madrid. 

The  Players'  Club,  New  York— 
The  Actor,  Velasquez. 

Owned  by  the  Chase  Estate — 
The  Queen. 

The  Infanta,  Velasquez. 
The  Man  with  the  Red  Knee.    Detail  from  the  group  of  men 

in  the  Haarlem  Rathhaus. 
Detail  from  the  Officers  of  St.  Joris,  Haarlem  Rathhaus. 

Other  copies  of  old  masters  by  Chase  sold  at  the  sale 
of  1896  are: 

Velasquez,  Don  Diego —  Ribera,  Jose — 

Head  of  Philip  IV.  Portrait  of  a  Man. 

Portrait  of  Himself. 

Philip  IV.  Van  Rhyn,  Rembrandt— 
The  Spinners.  Portrait  of  Himself. 

Van  Dyck,  A. — 

Die  Heilige  Magdaline.  Watteau,  Antoine — 

Portrait  of  a  Lad.  The  Seven  Ages. 


[329] 


LIST   OF   MEDALS   RECEIVED 
BY   WILLIAM   M.    CHASE 

Bronze  medal,  Munich,  1873. 

Bronze  medal,  Munich,  1874. 

Silver  medal,  Munich,  1874. 

Bronze  medal,  Munich,  1875. 

Bronze  medal,  Munich,  1876. 

Medal,  Centennial  Exposition,  Philadelphia,  1876. 

Massachusetts  silver  medal,  1878. 

Honorable  mention,  Paris  Salon,  1881. 

Gold  medal,  Munich,  1883. 

Gold  medal,  Paris  Salon,  1889. 

Member,   International  Jury  of  Awards,   Columbian  Exposition, 

Chicago,  1893. 

First  prize,  Cleveland  Art  Association,  1894. 
Gold  medal  of  honor,  Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  1894. 
Shaw  prize,  Society  American  Artists,  1895. 
Shaw  fund  prize  at  the  Society  of  American  Artists,  1895. 
Gold  medal,  Paris  Exposition,  1900. 

Temple  gold  medal,  Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  1901. 
Gold  medal,  Pan-American  Exposition,  Buffalo,  1901. 
Gold  medal,  Charleston  Exposition,  1902. 
First  Corcoran  prize,  Society  Washington  Artists,  1904. 
Gold  medal,  Louisiana  Purchase  Exposition,  1904. 
Member,  International  Jury  of  Awards,  St.  Louis  Exposition,  1904. 
Gold  medal,  Buenos  Aires,  1910. 
Bronze  medal  presented  by  the  Hispanic  Society,  New  York  City. 


[330] 


LETTERS  AND  SKETCHES 


BY 


CHASE   AND   HIS   FRIENDS 


F.  S.  Church. 


Chase 


Dielman. 


Sarah  Cowell  Le  Moyne. 


Alice  Gerson. 


SILHOUETTES  MADE  BY  CHASE.  CHURCH,  DIELMAN,  AND  SHIRLAW. 
AT  THE  GERSONS'  HOME  ABOUT  1879. 


[333] 


ou 

otiww  0lu  M^ 


V 


LETTER  FROM  F.  S.  CHURCH  TO  MISS  C.ERSON,  ABOUT  1879. 


[334] 


/  /"J 

CL-.-"/'vJ  ^>?-!/         C^-?"~ 'ZC.*^, 


i  S.  ^  1 


-r-,.^  i**^ 


LETTER  FROM  BLUM  TO  CHASE,  1881. 


[335] 


~  •;  \  .v     "  \      ~  .  / 

i-^-i-1    *J/**  '"    *     /-     ^ 


**-*-/*a   -."""   «^*^is\ri^ ^^  i //y)*5^^  /    *  A  r** 

X^  ^1^9-^8? ? 

/  /    ^i-""- -."H      u     ?•*   •* 

/      /       r^*  t—v .    .  t*f  #    ^        ii    »„  >  i 


LETTER  FROM  CHASE  TO  ALICE  GERSON,  1881. 


LETTKR  FROM  BLUM  TO  CHASE,  SPAIN,  188«. 


[337] 


LETTER  FROM  BLUM  IN  VENICE,  1885. 


[338] 


r 


CARICATURES  OF  TWACHTMAX  (left)  AXD  CHASE  (right)  IX  A  LETTER 
FROM   Hl.lM  TO  CHASE,  1885. 


[339] 


/V^H/  ^rjc^  /Xt^//C 

i  •'•  hk^l- 


LETTER  FROM  BLUM  TO  CHASE,  VENICE,  1885. 


[340] 


v',V    -^M>*~    W^E, 


LKTTER   FROM  TWACHTMAX  TO  CHASE  FROM  VENICE,  1885. 
[341] 


LETTER  FROM  BLUM  TO  CHASE  FROM  VENICE,  1885. 


~Q       <±- 

X/     <**«--»        >>-     C 


^ 
^ 


•Ot— •O-O-t_-v-        ^^"^vVT 


C^lC 


«^ 


•y?— oc^-^--^&  <7»—i''. 


c.: 


LETfER  FROM  BLUM  IN  VENICE  TO  CHASE  IN  .NEW  YORK.  ABOUT  1889. 


[343] 


VENETIAN  SKETCHES  IN  LETTER  FROM  BLUM  TO  CHASE,  ABOUT  ISHii. 


(344] 


/'• 


VENETIAN  SKETCHES  IN  LETTER  FROM  BLUM  TO  CHASE,  ABOUT  1889. 


[345 


VENETIAN  SKETCHES  IN  LETTER  FROM  HI-l'M  TO  CHASE,  ABOUT  1889. 


[346] 


w 

*x. 


h-I 


LETTER  FROM  BLUM  TO  CHASE,  1890. 


[347] 


LETTER  FROM  BLUM  IX  JAPAN  TO  CHASE,  1891. 


[348 


INDEX 


Abbey,  Edwin,  19,  123,  215,  223,  285. 

Academy  of  Arts  and  Letters,  219. 

Academy  of  Design,  18,  20,  158. 

Allston,  Washington,  22. 

Alma-Tadema,  215. 

American  art,  16-18,  23,  54,  79,  297. 

American  Painters  in  Pastel,  107-108. 

Art  Club,  the,  57. 

Art  League,  55,  85,  100,  151,  231,  309. 

Beard,  21. 

Beaux,  Cecilia,  307. 

Beckwith,  Carroll,  56,  93,  155,  234,  307. 

Belgenland,  decoration  of,  93. 

Benson,  Frank,  307. 

Bierstadt,  23. 

Blum,  Robert,  69,  93,  95,  104,  105,  106, 

107,  108,  116,  145-146,  158-161,  192, 

211,  269. 

Boston  Art  Club  exhibition,  150. 
Brangwyn,  191,  238,  246. 
Bret  Harte,  19. 
Bronson,  Mrs.,  45,  46,  50. 
Bruges,  238. 

Brush,  George  DeForest,  224. 
Buffalo  Bill,  270. 
Bunce,  Gedney,  95. 
Burne-Jones,  Chase's  opinion  of,  215. 

California,  246-252. 

Carmel-by-the-Sea,  247. 

Carmencita  in  the  Tenth  Street  Studio, 

155-158. 

Centennial  Exhibit,  54. 
Central  Park  sketches,  151,  280. 
Chardin,  279. 
Chase — 

Art  and  art  opinions,  275-308. 

Atlantic  City,  at,  322. 

Birth,  1. 

Boyhood,  anecdotes  of,  2-5. 

Children,   159,   162,   166,   185,   214, 
245,  265-267,  271-274. 

Children,  marriage  of,  236,  237. 

Classes,  165,  309. 


Collections,  300. 

Columbus  competition,  38-40. 

Copley,  297. 

Death,  324. 

Degree,  N.  Y.  University,  322. 

Etchings,  292. 

Exhibition,  his  first,  22. 

Fifth  Avenue  Studio,  171. 

Florentine  art,  his  opinion  of,  223- 

224. 

Fourth  Avenue  Studio,  18,  229-231. 
Free  art  bill,  interest  in,  306. 
Hat,  144-145,  262-263. 
Hoboken,  in,  162. 
Holland,  in,  108-145,  204-213. 
Imitative  gift,  his,  258. 
Indiana,  We  in,  1-8,  10-14. 
Indiana  Art  Association,  251-252. 
Interiors,  278. 

Italy,  in,  223-227,  231-232,  233,  240. 
London,  in,  114,  190-192,  214-218, 

238,  246. 

Munich,  in,  27-44,  193-202. 
National  Academy,  42. 
New  York,  student  days  in,  15-26. 
Paints,  first  use  of,  11. 
Parents,  1,  10,  24,  186. 
Paris,  in,  94-95,  104,  192. 
Pastel,  use  of,  291. 
Portraits  of  self,  224,  251,  252. 
Rings,  collection  of,  261. 
Sargent's  portrait  of,  172-173. 
School,  The,  171. 
Shinnecock,  at,  162. 
Society  American  Artists,  connection 

with,  85,  150. 
Spam,  in,  95-100,  104-107,  168-170, 

219-222. 

Still-life  studies,  first,  22. 
Studios,  13,  18,  40,  56,  171,  229,  300 
Venice,  in,  45-51,  234,  240-244. 
Whistler,  meeting  with,  111. 
Chase  canvases  mentioned — 
Alice,  165. 
Antiquary's  Shop,  The,  47. 


349 


INDEX 


Apprentice  Boy,  The,  42. 

Belgian  Melon,  A,  22,  239. 

Boy  with  Cockatoo,  42. 

Broken  Jug,  The,  42,  54. 

Dorothy  and  Her  Sister,  171,  305. 

Dowager,  The,  42. 

English  Cod,  An,  216-218. 

Fish  Market,  The,  47,  242. 

Flame,  The,  248,  282. 

Grey  Kimono,  The,  171,  283. 

Gwathmey,  portrait,  288,  322. 

Hide  and  Seek,  278. 

Jester,  The,  41,  54,  292. 

Johnson,  Robert  Underwood,  portrait, 
240. 

Just  Onions,  239. 

Lady  in  Black,  The,  158. 

Lady  urith  White  Shawl,  The,  165,  228, 
233,  288. 

Mother  and  Child,  154,  283,  305. 

Old  Cavalier,  42. 

Paur,  Emil,  portrait,  171. 

Ready  for  the  Ride,  42,  54. 

Red  Box,  The,  171,  282,  305. 

Ring  Toss,  279. 

Smoker,  The,  41. 

Spanish  Lady,  A,  281. 

Sunlight  and  Shadow,  108,  204. 

Turkish  Page,  The,  40,  42. 

Uffizi  Gallery,  self  portrait  for,  225. 

Windmuller,  Louis,  portrait,  174, 288. 
Chase,  Mrs.,  150,  153,  171,  184,  253-254. 
Christy,  Howard  Chandler,  181,  301. 
Church,  F.  S.,  65-68,  70-72,  73. 
Ciardi,  Signorina,  241-242. 
Cincinnati  Exhibition,  232. 
Cooper  Union,  20,  328. 
Currier,  Frank,  29,  42,  292. 


Daniel,  55,  78,  88-92. 

De  Hooghe,  279. 

Del  Monte,  247. 

Dielman,  Frederick,  26,  28,  36,  83. 

Dietrich,  196. 

Dietz,  196,  198. 

Dodd,  Samuel,  112. 

Dog  story,  Madrid,  97. 

Dogs,  87,  109. 

Diisseldorf  School,  16. 


Duveneck,  Frank,  26,  28,  29,  40,  45,  46, 
51,  53,  307,  308. 

Eaton,  J.  O.,  14,  18,  19. 

Eaton,  Wyatt,  19. 

Fairman,  22. 

Fish  still-life,  228,  248,  305. 

Fish  still-life,  manner  of  painting,  283- 

284. 

Fortuny,  influence  of,  281. 
Fortuny,  Mme.,  243-244. 
French  Plein  Air  School,  280. 
Fuller,  George,  16,  18,  24. 
Futurists,  Chase's  opinion  of,  179,  296. 

Gerson  family,  The,  68-74,  84,  208-211, 

265,  323. 

Gibson,  Charles  Dana,  240,  270. 
Gilder,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  R.  W.,  55. 
Greco,  El,  255-256,  298-299. 
Guarino,  Salvatore,  302. 

von  Habermann,  34. 
Hals,  Franz,  211,  213,  297. 
Harper's  Christmas,  82. 
Harrison,  Alexander,  193. 
Harrison,  Birge,  253,  305. 
Hawthorne,  C.  W.,  302. 
Hayes,  Benjamin,  13. 
Holbein,  Chase's  opinion  of,  319. 
Homer,  Winslow,  18,  21. 
Horn,  Oliver,  21,  83. 
Hudson  River  School,  The,  21,  79. 
Hunt,  William,  16. 

Indianapolis,  6,  8,  10. 
Inman,  297. 
Inness,  George,  20. 
Israels,  212. 

Japanese  art,  279. 
Jewett,  Sarah,  19. 
Jocko,  47-50. 

Kaulbach,  27,  37. 
Kelly,  James,  19,  69. 
King,  22. 


[350  ] 


La  Touche,  death  of,  243. 

* 


INDEX 


La  Touche,  Chase's  meeting  with,  239. 

Lavery,  191,  215. 

Leibl,  27,  29,  203. 

von  Lenbach,  199. 

Leutze,  16. 

Lie,  Jonas,  302. 

Low,  Will,  21. 

Ludwig,  King,  31. 

Macy,  W.  S.,  19,  47. 

Manet,  94. 

Marr,  Carl,  198. 

Martin,  Homer,  21. 

Mesdag,  206,  212. 

Metropolitan  Museum,  20,  55. 

Meyer,  Jerome,  302. 

Millais,  Sir  John,  129. 

Miller,  N.A.,  Charles,  28,  56. 

Miller,  Zack,  270. 

Mitchell,  Bleecker,  67. 

Models,  the  first,  59. 

Moore,  George,  Chase's  opinion  of,  254. 

Morse,  Samuel,  20,  22,  297. 

Mowbray,  Siddons,  108. 

Mulvaney,  John,  25. 

Munich — 

Columbus  competition,  38. 

Max  Emmanuel  Cafe,  32. 

New  Pinakotek,  196. 

Old  Pinakotek,  33,  196. 

Royal  Academy,  27,  28,  38. 

Schack  gallery,  199. 

Student  days,  27-44,  51. 
Munich  revisited,  194-201. 
Munich  School,  17,  42,  276. 
Murillo,  Chase's  opinion  of,  296. 

National  Arts  Club  Exhibition,  232,  304. 
National  Gallery,  216. 
New  York  School  of  Art,  connection  with, 
171,  224. 

Palmer,  Walter,  57,  87,  306. 

Pan-American  Exposition,  246,  252. 

Parrish,  Maxfield,  260. 

Peale,  22. 

Pennland,  decoration  of,  103,  108. 

Pennsylvania  Academy,  171,  231. 

Philadelphia  Free  Class,  310. 


Piloty,  Karl  von,  27,  37,  39-40,  293. 
Platt,  Livingston,  152,  311-313. 
Polling,  51-53. 
Poore,  Henry,  303. 
Prospect  Park  sketches,  151. 

Quartley,  Arthur,  76,  83,  103. 

Raphael,  Chase's  opinion  of,  292. 
Reinhart,  C.  S.,  28,  83. 
Rembrandt,  Chase's  opinion  of,  292. 
Rittenberg,  Henry,  35,  196, 197,  198,  201, 

202. 
Rolshoven,  Julius,  224. 

St.  Louis,  24,  25. 

Sargent,  John,  24,  155-156, 157, 158,  215, 

238,  307. 

Sargent's  portrait  of  Chase,  172,  173. 
Sarony,  Napoleon,  81,  86-87. 
Schoolship  Portsmouth,  9,  10. 
Schreyvogel,  302. 
Seiffert,  Leopold,  302. 
Shannon,  J.  J.,  215. 
Sherwood,  Rosina  Emmett,  22,  85. 
Shinn,  Everett,  302. 
Shinnecock,  162,  165,  175-188,  273. 
Shinnecock  art  village,  177,  188. 
Shinnecock  criticisms,  177-183. 
Shinnecock  Indians,  186-187. 
Shinnecock  landscapes,  175. 
Shinnecock  tableaux,  184. 
Shirlaw,  Walter,  26,  29,  30,  51,  194. 
Smith,  Hopkinson,  21,  56,  77,  81. 
Society  of  American  Artists,  55,  85,  150. 
Sorolla,  220. 
Spanish  art,  96,  280. 
Stevens,  Alfred,  95,  135,  211,  276. 
Stewart,  Gilbert,  297. 
StUck,  200. 

Studio  buildings  in  New  York,  19-20. 
Studio  life,  beginning  of,  60. 
Studio  life  in  New  York,  19. 
Studio,  The,  57. 
Sully,  22,  297. 


Tate  Gallery,  215. 

Ten  American  Painters,  174,  305. 


[351] 


INDEX 


Tenth  Street  Studio,  The,  20,  56,  86,  153, 

166-167. 

Tintoretto,  242,  293. 
Twachtman,  John  H.,  26,  42,  45,  80,  147- 

148,  174. 
Twain,  Mark,  44. 

von  Uhde,  Fritz,  201. 

Ullman,  Eugene  Paul,  196,  201,  202,  204. 

Van  Dyck,  Anthony,  43. 

Van  Dyke,  John,  212. 

Velasquez,  93,  96. 

Velasquez,  anecdote  of,  169. 

Velasquez,  Chase's  admiration  for,  100, 

297. 

Velasquez  copies,  168,  169,  328,  329. 
Velasquez,  influence  of,  281. 
Vermeer,  279,  297. 
Vinton,  Frederick,  103,  104,  232. 
Vollon,  258,  297. 


Wagner,  Richard  and  Cosima,  31. 

Weir,  Alden,  94,  307. 

West,  Benjamin,  22,  27. 

Wheeler,  Dora,  85. 

Wheeler,  Mrs.  Candace,  82,  103. 

Whistler,  9,  18. 

Whistler,  Chase's  association  with,  111- 

149,  207. 

Whistler,  Chase  portraits,  the,  139-142. 
Whistler,  Chase's  portrait  of,  289,  305. 
Wiggin,  Kate  Douglas,  154. 
Wiles,  Gladys,  234. 
Wiles,   Irving,   58,   219,   233,    307,  324, 

325. 

WUhelm,  Kaiser,  202,  228. 
Wilhelmj,  260. 
Williamsburg,  Indiana,  1. 
Wyant,  A.  H.,  23. 

Zandvoort,  108,  204. 
Zuloaga,  255-256. 


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